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* 




















. 

























































ELEMENTS 


OF 


THE PHILOSOPHY 


OF 


the human mind. 


IN TWO PARTS. 


BY 



DUG A LI) STEWART, 

n 

PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY, AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY 

OF EDINBURGH, ETC. ETC. 


WITH REFERENCES, SECTIONAL HEADS, SYNOPTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS 
AND TRANSLATIONS OF THE NUMEROUS GREEK, LATIN, AND 
FRENCH QUOTATIONS, &c. 


THE REV. 

EDITOR OF THE 


Gf N. WRIGHT, 

I 

WORKS OF BERKELEY, REID, 


M.A., 

ETC. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, CHEAPSIDE; 

R. GRIFFIN AND CO., GLASGOW ; T. LE MESURIER, DUBLIN ; J. AND S. A. TEGG, 

SYDNEY AND HOBART TOWN. 

M DCCCXLIII. 

WV 







LONDON: 

BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 


In Exchange 

Bro YA 


• • 
• « 
• • » 
• • 

i 



PREFACE. 


After an interval of more than twenty years,* I venture to present 
to the public the second Part of the “ Philosophy of the Human 
Mind.” 


When the first Part was sent to the press, I expected that a few 
short chapters would comprehend all that I had further to offer 
concerning the Intellectual Powers; and that I should he able to 
employ the greater part of the second in examining those principles 
of our constitution, which are immediately connected with the 
Theory of Morals. On proceeding, however, to attempt an analysis 
of Reason, in the more strict acceptation of that term, I fouhd so 
many doubts crowding on me with respect to the logical doctrines 
then generally received, that I was forced to abandon the com¬ 
paratively limited plan according to which I had originally intended 
‘ to treat of the Understanding, and, in the meantime, to suspend 
the continuation of my work, till a more unbroken leisure should 
allow me to resume it with a less divided attention. 


Of the accidents which have since occurred to retard my pro¬ 
gress, it is unnecessary to take any notice here. I allude to them, 
merely as an apology for those defects of method, which are the 
natural, and perhaps the unavoidable consequences of the frequent 
interruptions by which the train of my thoughts has been diverted 
to other pursuits. Such of my readers as are able to judge how 
very large a proportion of my materials has been the fruit of my 


* The first Part of “ The Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind ” was published 
in 1792, the second in 1814. 

a 2 


IV 


PREFACE. 


own meditations, and who are aware of the fugitive nature of our 
reasonings concerning phenomena so far removed from the percep¬ 
tions of sense, will easily conceive the difficulty I must occasionally 
have experienced, in deciphering the short and slight hints on 
these topics, which I had committed to writing at remote periods 
of my life; and still more, in recovering the thread which had at 
first connected them together in the order of my researches. 

I have repeatedly had occasion to regret the tendency of this 
intermitted and irregular mode of composition, to deprive my 
speculations of those advantages, in point of continuity, which, to 
the utmost of my power, I have endeavoured to give them. But 
I would willingly indulge the hope, that this is a blemish more 
likely to meet the eye of the author than of the reader; and I am 
confident that the critic who shall honour me with a sufficient 
degree of attention, to detect it where it may occur, will not be 
inclined to treat it with an undue severity. 

The circumstances which have so long delayed the publication of 
these reflections on the Intellectual Powers, have not operated, in 
an equal degree, to prevent the prosecution of my inquiries into 
those principles of Human Nature, to which my attention was, for 
many years, statedly and forcibly called by my official duty. Much, 
indeed, still remains to be done in maturing, digesting, and 
arranging many of the doctrines which I was accustomed to intro¬ 
duce into my lectures; but if I shall be blessed, for a few years 
longer, with a moderate share of health and of mental vigour, I do 
not altogether despair of yet contributing something, in the form of 
Essays, to fill up the outline which the sanguine imagination of 
youth encouraged me to conceive, before I had duly measured the 
magnitude of my undertaking with the time or with the abilities 
which I could devote to the execution. 

The work which I now publish is more particularly intended 
for the use of academical students; and is offered to them as a 
guide or assistant, at that important stage of their progress when, 
the usual course of discipline being completed, an inquisitive mind 
is naturally led to review its past attainments, and to form plans 


PREFACE. 


V 


for its future improvement. In the prosecution of this design, I 
have not aimed at the establishment of new theories ; far less have 
I aspired to the invention of any new organ for the discovery of 
truth. My principal object is to aid my readers in unlearning the 
scholastic errors which, in a greater or less degree, still maintain 
their ground in our most celebrated seats of learning: and by sub¬ 
jecting to free but, I trust, not sceptical discussion, the more 
enlightened though discordant systems of modern logicians, to 
accustom the understanding to the unfettered exercise of its native 
capacities. That several of the views opened in the following pages 
appear to myself original, and of some importance, I will not deny ; 
but the reception these may meet with, I shall regard as a matter of 
comparative indifference, if my labours be found useful in training 
the mind to those habits of reflection on its own operations, which 
may enable it to superadd to the instructions of the schools, that 
higher education which no schools can bestow. 

Kinneil House, 

22nd November, 1813. 


In order to estimate the value, and comprehend the force of the 
Author’s criticisms on the theories of those metaphysical writers who 
have preceded him, it is absolutely necessary to understand the 
meaning of the numerous extracts from their writings to which his 
arguments immediately apply. As these occupy more than a six¬ 
teenth part of the whole volume, and have hitherto been allowed to 
remain in the different languages of their respective writers, an 
accomplished linguist alone was qualified to read “ The Philosophy 
of the Mind” with effect. To extend the usefulness of the Author’s 
labours, translations of all such extracts are now introduced (the 
original passages being also retained); more method is observed in 
the arrangement of the chapters, and headings are prefixed to those 
sections that appeared to require them. The employment of 
brackets to inclose the valuable, emphatic, or recapitulatory sen¬ 
tences in each section, has also been followed, and, an index ) 




VI 


PREFACE. 


placed at the commencement of each illustrative example, figure, 
or image, as in the editions of the works of Reid and Berkeley, 
published contemporaneously with this volume. 

If this treatise were to be read only by him for whom it was 
written,—“the young philosopher, who had closed his academical 
career , and was therefore capable of reviewing with attention and 
candour his past acquisitions,”—it might not be necessary to recom¬ 
mend a cautious reception of the observations, opinions , and lan¬ 
guage which it contains; but, as the unlearned may also desire to 
examine the valuable store of knowledge here accumulated, it is 
expedient that he should be advised to guard against fallacies in 
which exuberance of style may sometimes involve him; as well 
as against the illustrative arguments which the Author has occa¬ 
sionally employed without sufficient reflection. The confusion 
which appears in the chapter on Conception, where “ Memory ” 
would evidently be a more appropriate term, exemplifies the first 
species of error: the illustration of “ a person falling asleep in 
church,” &c., (who is certainly awakened by a new action pro¬ 
duced on the organs of hearing,) is an instance of the second. 

G. N. W. 


Coed Celyn, Llanrwst, Denbighshire. 


SYNOPTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


\ 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

OF THE NATURE AND OBJECT OF THE 

PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND 1 

Sec. 1. That the Philosophy of the 
Human Mind has hitherto 
made so little progress, acci¬ 
dental . . . ib. 

2. Our notions of Matter and 

Mind relative . . 2 

3. But the evidence of the exist¬ 
ence of Mind stronger . ib. 

4. The consideration of the na¬ 

ture of Substance abandoned 
by modern Natural Philoso¬ 
phers . * .3 

5. Reid saw clearly the distinc¬ 

tion between an inquiry into 
the nature of Mind and into 
the laws of its phenomena . 4 

6. The little progress hitherto 

made in the philosophy of 
mind not surprising . 5 

7. Attention to two circum¬ 
stances would accelerate the 
progress of the philosophy 

t)f mind . . . ib. 

8. Analogy between the investi¬ 

gation of the laws of Matter 
and of Mind . . 0 

9. Inattention to the proper 

limits of philosophical in¬ 
quiry a source of error . 7 

10. Analogy not hitherto em¬ 
ployed with sufficient caution 

by philosophers . . 8 

11. Principal object of Reid’s in¬ 
quiries . . . ib. 


CHAPTER II. 

PAGE 

OF THE UTILITY OF THE PHILOSOPHY 

OF THE HUMAN MIND . . 9 

Sec. 1. A mutual connexion between 

the different arts and sciences ib. 

2. All the pursuits of life are 

connected with the study of 
the Intellectual Powers . 10 

3. Advantages of a successful 

analysis of them . . ib. 

4. The most essential objects of 

education . . .11 

5. Farther advantages resulting 

from a knowledge of our 
capacities . . .13 

6. Ti*ue principles on which edu¬ 

cation should be conducted, 
considered . . . ib. 

7. Why such different opinions 

upon this subject . .14 

8. Objection to the advantages 

of Education answered . 15 

9. The necessity, force, and na¬ 

tural effects of authority . 17 

10. Preliminary step in entering 

upon the study of metaphy¬ 
sical science . . ib. 

11. Such an examination alone 

can secure a philosopher 
from the danger of unlimited 
scepticism . . .18 

12. How far implicit credulity and 
unlimited scepticism related 19 

13. Value of correct early im¬ 
pressions . . .21 

14. In proportion as a creed is 
complicated in its dogmas, 
the more difficult is it to 
emancipate ourselves from 

its influence . . .23 









via 


SYNOPTICAL TABLE 


CHAPTER III. 

PAGE 

CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT . 24 

Sec. 1. Two consequences flowing 
from the relation between 
the different branches of edu¬ 
cation and the philosophy of 
the human mind . . ib. 

2. A chief Obstruction to the 
study of Physics amongst 
ancient, and of Metaphysics 
amongst modern philosophers 25 


PA Gil 

Sec. 3. Analysis an additional illustra¬ 
tion of the utility of method 30 

4. The observations on method 

will not apply literally to our 
inquiries in metaphysics, mo¬ 
rals, or politics . .31 

5. Further observations relative 

to the utility of the philo¬ 
sophy of mind . . 32 

6. The most important purposes 
to which the philosophy of the 
human mind is subservient 34 


PART I. 


CHAPTER I. 

OF THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEP¬ 
TION . . . .35 

Sec. 1. Of the Theories which have 
been formed by Philosophers, 
to explain the manner in 
which the Mind perceives 
external Objects . . ib. 

2. Of certain natural Prejudices 
which seem to have given 
rise to the common Theories 

of Perception . . 39 

3. Of Dr. Reid’s Speculations on 

the Subject of Perception . 47 

4. Of the Origin of our know¬ 
ledge . . .51 

CHAPTER II. 

OF ATTENTION . . .56 

Sec. 1. The Connexion between At¬ 
tention and Memory . ib. 

2. Of habits in which both mind 

and body are concerned . 60 

3. Phenomena, or Habits purely 

intellectual . . .66 

CHAPTER III. 

OF CONCEPTION . . .71 

Sec. 1. Conception, that power of the 
mind which enables it to form 
a notion of an absent object 
of perception, or of a sensa¬ 
tion which it has formerly 
felt . . . . ib. 

2. Agreements and Differences 
between Conception and Ima¬ 
gination . . -75 


CHAPTER IV. 

OF ABSTRACTION . . .81 

Sec. 1. General Observations on this 

Faculty of the Mind . . ib. 

2. Of the objects of our thoughts, • 

when we employ general 
terms . . .85 

3. Remarks on the Opinions of 

some modern Philosophers 
on the subject of the fore¬ 
going Section . .96 

4. Continuation of the same sub¬ 

ject. Inferences with re¬ 
spect to the use of Language 
as an Instrument of Thought, 
and the errors in Reasoning 
to which it occasionally gives 
rise . . . .104 

5. Of the Purposes to which the 

Powers of Abstraction and 
Generalization are subser¬ 
vient . . .108 

6. Of the Errors to which we 
are liable in Speculation, and 
in the conduct of Affairs, in 
consequence of a rash Appli¬ 
cation of general Principles 114 

7. Continuation of the same sub¬ 
ject. Differences in the In¬ 
tellectual Characters of Indi¬ 
viduals, arising from their 
different Habits of Abstrac¬ 
tion and Generalization . 118 

8. Continuation of the same sub¬ 
ject. Use and abuse of ge¬ 
neral principles in Politics . 124 








OF CONTENTS. 


IX 


CHAPTER V. 

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.—FIRST ; 

OF THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIA¬ 
TION IN REGULATING THE SUCCES¬ 
SION OF OUR THOUGHTS . 

Sec. 1. General Observations on this 
Part of our Constitution, and 
on the Language of Philoso¬ 
phers with respect to it 

2. Of the Principles of Associa¬ 
tion among our Ideas 

3. Of the Power which the Mind 
has over the Train of its 
Thoughts 

4. Illustrations of the Doctrine 

stated in the preceding Sec¬ 
tion . . . ' . 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.— 

SECONDLY J OF THE INFLUENCE 

OF ASSOCIATION ON THE INTEL¬ 
LECTUAL AND ON THE ACTIVE 

POWERS . 

Sec. 1. Of the Influence of Casual 
Associations on our Specu¬ 
lative Conclusions 

2. Influence of the Association 
of Ideas on our Judgments 
in Matters of Taste . 

3. Of the Influence of Association 
on our active Principles, and 
on our moral Judgments 

4. General Remarks on the Sub¬ 
jects treated in the foregoing 
Sections of this Chapter 

CHAPTER VII. 

OF MEMORY . 

Sec. 1. General Observations on Me¬ 
mory 


P 

OF REASON, OR THE UNDERSTANDING 
PROPERLY SO CALLED ; AND THE 
VARIOUS FACULTIES AND OPERA¬ 
TIONS MORE IMMEDIATELY CON¬ 
NECTED WITH IT 

Preliminai'y Observations.—On the 
vagueness and ambiguity of the 
common philosophical language 
relative to this part of our con¬ 
stitution.—Reason and reason¬ 
ing,—understanding, — intellect, 
—judgment, &c. 


PAGE 

Sec. 2. Of the Varieties of Memory 

in different Individuals . 219 

3. Of the Improvement of Me¬ 
mory.—Analysis of the Prin¬ 
ciples on which the Culture 

of Memory depends . 22G 

4. Aid which the Memory de¬ 

rives from Philosophical Ar¬ 
rangement . . . 230 

5. Effects produced on the Me¬ 
mory by committing to Writ¬ 
ing our acquired Knowledge 235 

6. Of Artificial Memory . . 240 

7. Importance of making a pro¬ 

per Selection among the ob¬ 
jects of our Knowledge, in 
order to derive Advantage 
from the Acquisitions of Me¬ 
mory . . .243 

8. Of the Connexion between 

Memory and philosophical 
Genius . . . 248 

CHAPTER VIII. 

OF IMAGINATION . . . 253 

Sec. 1. Analysis of Imagination . ib. 

2. Of Imagination considered in 
its Relation to some of the 
Fine Arts . . . 258 

5. Relation of Imagination and 
of Taste to Genius . .267 

4. Of the Influence of Imagina¬ 

tion on Human Character 
and Happiness . .268 

5. Inconveniences resulting from 

an ill-regulated Imagination 272 

6. Important Uses to which the 

Power of Imagination is sub¬ 
servient . . .279 


T II. 

CHAPTER I. 

OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF. HUMAN 
BELIEF ; OR THE PRIMARY ELE¬ 
MENTS OF HUMAN REASON . . 296 

Sec. 1. Of Mathematical Axioms . ib. 

2. Continuation of the same 

Subject . . . 305 

3. Of certain laws of Belief, in¬ 

separably connected with the 
Exercise of Consciousness, 
Memory, Perception, and 
Reasoning . . . 308 

b 


PAGE 

y 

. 146 

s 

1 

. ib. 

. 152 

I 

s 

. 156 

e 

. 159 

E 

E 

. 184 

1 

. ib. 

l 

s 

. 195 

u 

d 

. 204 

g 

. 210 

. 212 

. ib. 

* A R 

, 283 

a 

.’ ib. . 







X 


SYNOPTICAL TABLE 


PAGE 

Sec. 4. Critical Remarks on some 
late Controversies to which 
it has given rise. Of the 
Appeals which Dr. Reid and 
some other modern Writers 
have made, in their philoso¬ 
phical Discussions, to Com¬ 
mon Sense, as a Criterion of 
Truth . . .316 


CHAPTER II. 

OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVI¬ 
DENCE ... . • 329 

Sec. 1. Doubts with respect to 
Locke’s Distinction between 
the Powers of Intuition and 
of Reasoning . • ib. 

2. Conclusions obtained by a 
Process of Deduction often 
mistaken for Intuitive Judg¬ 
ments . . • 333 

CHAPTER III. 

OF GENERAL REASONING . . 337 

Sec. 1. Illustrations of some Remarks 
formerly stated in treating of 
Abstraction . . ib. 

2. Of Language considered as 

an Instrument of Thought . 348 

3. Visionai’y Theories of some 
Logicians, occasioned by their 
inattention to the Essential 
Distinction between Mathe¬ 
matics and other Sciences . 353 

4. Peculiar and supereminent 
Advantages possessed by Ma¬ 
thematicians, in consequence 

of their definite Phraseology 358 

CHAPTER IV. 

OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION . 360 
Sec. 1. Of the Circumstance on which 
Demonstrative Evidence es¬ 
sentially depends . . ib. 

2. How far it is true that all 

Mathematical Evidence is re¬ 
solvable into Identical Pro¬ 
positions . . . 367 

3. Evidence of the Mechanical 

Philosophy, not to be con¬ 
founded with that which is 
properly called Demonstra¬ 
tive or Mathematical.—Op¬ 
posite Error of some late 
Writers . . .375 


CHAPTER V. 

FAGE 

OF OUR REASONINGS CONCERNING PRO¬ 
BABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS . 389 

Sec. 1. Narrow Field of Demonstra¬ 
tive Evidence.—Of Demon¬ 
strative Evidence, when com¬ 
bined with that of Sense, as 
in Practical Geometry ; and 
with those of sense and of 
Induction, as in the Mecha¬ 
nical Philosophy.—Remarks 
on a Fundamental Law of 
Belief, involved in all our 
Reasonings concerning Con¬ 
tingent Truths . . ib. 

2. Of that Permanence or Sta¬ 

bility in the Order of Nature, 
which is presupposed in our 
Reasonings concerning Con¬ 
tingent Truths . • 392 

3. General Remarks on the dif¬ 

ference between the Evidence 
of Experience and that of 
Analogy . . .403 

4. Evidence of Testimony tacitly 

recognised as a ground of 
Belief, in our most certain 
conclusions concerning Con¬ 
tingent Truths.—Difference 
between the Logical and the 
Popular Meaning of the word 
Probability . , .409 


CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC . .411 

Sec. 1. Of the Demonstrations of the 
Syllogistic Rules given by 
Aristotle and his Commen¬ 
tators . . . ib. 

2. General Reflections on the 
aim of the Aristotelian Logic, 
and on the intellectual Habits 
which the study of it has a 
tendency to form.—That the 
improvement of the power of 
Reasoning ought to be re¬ 
garded as only a secondary 
Object in the culture of the 
Understanding . . 425 

Sec. 3. In what respects the study of 
the Aristotelian logic may be 
useful to disputants.—A ge¬ 
neral acquaintance with it 
justly regarded as an essen¬ 
tial accomplishment to those 
who are liberally educated.— 
Doubts suggested by some 
late writers concerning Aris¬ 
totle’s claims to the invention 
of the Syllogistic Theory . 435 




OF CONTENTS. 


xi 


CHAPTER VIT. 

PAGE 

OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY POINTED 
OUT IN THE EXPERIMENTAL OR 
INDUCTIVE LOGIC . . 446 

Sec. 1. Mistakes of the Ancients con¬ 
cerning the proper Object of 
Philosophy.—Ideas of Bacon 
on the same subject_In¬ 

ductive Reasoning.—Analy¬ 
sis and Synthesis.—Essential 
difference between Legiti¬ 
mate and Hypothetical Theo¬ 
ries . . . . ib. 

2. The Induction of Aristotle 
compared with that of Bacon 463 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OF THE IMPORT OF THE WORDS ANALY¬ 
SIS AND SYNTHESIS, IN THE LAN¬ 
GUAGE OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY . 472 

Sec. 1. Preliminary Observations on 
the Analysis and Synthesis 
of the Greek Geometricians ib. 
2. Critical Remarks on the vague 
use among modern Writers 
of the terms Analysis and 
Synthesis . . .478 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE CONSIDERATION OF THE INDUCTIVE 

LOGIC RESUMED . . .487 

Sec. 1. Additional Remarks on the 
Distinction between Expe¬ 
rience and Analogy.—Of the 
grounds afforded by the latter 
for Scientific Inference and 
Conjecture . . ib. 

2. Use and Abuse of Hypotheses 
in Philosophical Inquiries.— 
Difference between Gratui¬ 
tous Hypotheses, and those 


which are supported by pre¬ 
sumptions suggested by Ana¬ 
logy. — Indirect Evidence 
which an Hypothesis may de¬ 
rive from its agreement with 

the Phenomena_Cautions 

against extending some of 
these conclusions to the Phi¬ 
losophy of the Human Mind 

Sec. 3. Supplemental Observations on 
the words Induction and Ana¬ 
logy, as used in Mathematics 

CHAPTER X. 

OF CERTAIN MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE 
WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUC¬ 
TION, IN THE PHRASEOLOGY OF 
MODERN SCIENCE. ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM MEDICINE AND FROM POLI¬ 
TICAL ECONOMY . 

CHAPTER XI. 

OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL 
CAUSES 

Sec. 1- Opinion of Lord Bacon on the 
subject.— Final Causes re¬ 
jected by Des Cartes, and by 
the majority of French Plii- 

* losophers_Recognised as 

legitimate objects of research 
by Newton.—Tacitly acknow¬ 
ledged by all as a useful logi¬ 
cal Guide, even in Sciences 
which have no immediate 
relation to Theology . 

2. Danger of confounding Final 
with Physical Causes in the 
Philosophy of the Human 
Mind 

CONCLUSION OF PART II. 

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 


FAGK 

498 

511 

516 

526 


ib. 

537 

543 

549 








INTRODUCTION. 


CHAPTER I. 

OF THE NATURE AND OBJECT OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
HUMAN MIND. 

I. That the Philosophy of the Human Mind has hitherto made so 
little progress , accidental. — [The prejudice which is commonly enter¬ 
tained against metaphysical speculations, seems to arise chiefly from 
two causes : First, from an apprehension that the subjects about 
which they are employed are placed beyond the reach of the 
human faculties; and, secondly, from a belief that these subjects 
have no relation to the business of life.] 

The frivolous and absurd discussions which abound in the writ¬ 
ings of most metaphysical authors, afford but too many arguments 
in justification of these opinions; and if such discussions were to 
be admitted as a fair specimen of what the human mind is able to 
accomplish in this department of science, the contempt, into which 
it has fallen of late, might with justice be regarded, as no inconsi¬ 
derable evidence of the progress which true philosophy has made 
in the present age. Among the various subjects of inquiry, how¬ 
ever, which, in consequence of the vague use of language, are com¬ 
prehended under the general title of Metaphysics, there are some, 
which are essentially distinguished from the rest, both by the 
degree of evidence which accompanies their principles, and by the 
relation which they bear to the useful sciences and arts : and it has 
unfortunately happened, that these have shared in that general dis¬ 
credit into which the other branches of metaphysics have justly 
fallen. [To this circumstance is probably to be ascribed, the little 
progress which has hitherto been made in the philosophy of the 
human mind ; a science, so interesting in its nature, and so im¬ 
portant in its applications, that it could scarcely have failed, in 
these inquisitive and enlightened times, to have excited a very 
general attention, if it had not accidentally been classed, in the 
public opinion, with the vain and unprofitable disquisitions of the 
schoolmen.] 

In order to obviate these misapprehensions with respect to the 
subject of the following work, I have thought it proper, in this 




INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. I. 


2 


preliminary chapter, first, to explain the nature of the truths 
which I propose to investigate; and, secondly, to point out some 
of the more important applications of which they are susceptible. 
In stating these preliminary observations, I may perhaps appear to 
some to be minute and tedious ; but this fault, I am confident, will 
be readily pardoned by those, who have studied with care the prin¬ 
ciples of that science of which I am to treat: and who are anxious 
to remove the prejudices which have, in a great measure, excluded 
it from the modern systems of education. In the progress of my 
work, I flatter myself that I shall not often have occasion to solicit 
the indulgence of my readers, for an unnecessary diffuseness. 

II. Our notions of Matter and Mind relative. — [The notions we an¬ 
nex to the words, matter and mind, as is well remarked by Dr. Reid 
(in his Essays on the Active Powers of Man), are merely relative .] 
If I am asked, what I mean by matter ? lean only explain myself by 
saying, it is that which is extended, figured, coloured, movable, 
hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold;—that is, I can define 
it in no other way than by enumerating its sensible qualities. It is 
not matter, or body, which I perceive by my senses ; but only 
extension, figure, colour, and certain other qualities, which the 
constitution of my nature leads me to refer to something, which is 
extended, figured, and coloured. The case is precisely similar 
with respect to mind. We are not immediately conscious of its 
existence, but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition ; 
operations, which imply the existence of something which feels, 
thinks, and wills. Every man, too, is impressed with an irresist¬ 
ible conviction, that all these sensations, thoughts, and volitions, 

. belong to one and the same being ; to that being, which he calls 
himself; a being, which he is led, by the constitution of his nature, 
to consider as something distinct from his body, and as not liable to 
be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of his organs. 

III. But the evidence of the existence of Mind stronger. —From these 
considerations it appears, that [we have the same evidence for the 
existence of mind, that we have for the existence of body ; nay, if 
there be any difference between the two cases, that we have stronger 
evidence for it; inasmuch as the one is suggested to us by the sub¬ 
jects of our own consciousness, and the other merely by the objects 
of our perceptions :] and in this light, undoubtedly, the fact w r ould 
appear to every person, were it not, that, from our earliest years, 
the attention is engrossed with the qualities and laws of matter, an 
acquaintance with which is absolutely necessary for the preservation 
of our animal existence. Hence it is, that these phenomena occupy 
our thoughts more than those of mind; that we are perpetually 
tempted to explain the latter by the analogy of the former, and even to 
endeavour to refer them to the same general laws ; and that we 
acquire habits of inattention to the subjects of our consciousness, 
too strong to be afterwards surmounted, without the most perse¬ 
vering industry. 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 

If the foregoing observations be well founded, they establish the 
distinction between mind and matter, without any long process of 
metaphysical reasoning (note A.) : for, if our notions of both are 
merely relative; if we know the one, only by such sensible qualities 
as extension, figure, and solidity; and the other, by such operations 
as sensation, thought, and volition; we are certainly entitled to say, 
that matter and mind, considered as objects of human study, are 
essentially different; the science of the former resting ultimately 
on the phenomena exhibited to our senses ; that of the latter, on the 
phenomena of which we are conscious. Instead, therefore, of ob¬ 
jecting to the scheme of materialism, that its conclusions are false, 
it would be more accurate to say, that its aim is unphilosophical. 
It proceeds on a misapprehension of the proper object of science ; 
the difficulty which it prbfesses to remove being manifestly placed 
beyond the reach of our faculties. Surely, when we attempt to 
explain the nature of that principle which feels and thinks and wills, 
by saying, that it is a material substance, or that it is the result of 
material organization, we impose on ourselves by words ; forget¬ 
ting, that [matter as well as mind is known to us by its qualities and 
attributes alone, and that we are totally ignorant of the essence of 
either.] * 

IV. The consideration of the nature of Substance abandoned by 
modern Natural Philosophers. —[As all our knowledge of the material 
world is derived from the information of our senses, natural philoso¬ 
phers have , in modern times, wisely abandoned to metaphysicians, 
all speculations concerning the nature of that substance of which it is 
composed ; concerning the possibility or impossibility of its being 
created ; concerning the efficient causes of the changes which take 
place in it; and even concerning the reality of its existence, inde¬ 
pendent of that of percipient beings : and have confined themselves 
to the humbler province of observing the phenomena it exhibits, 
and of ascertaining their general laws.] By pursuing this plan 
steadily, they have, in the course of the two last centuries, formed 
a body of science, which not only does honour to the human under¬ 
standing, but has had a most important influence on the practical 
arts of life.—This experimental philosophy , no one now is in danger 
of confounding with the metaphysical speculations already men¬ 
tioned. Of the importance of these, as a separate branch of study, 
it is possible that some may think more favourably than others ; 
but they are obviously different in their nature, from the investiga¬ 
tions of physics ; and it is of the utmost consequence to the evidence 
of this last science, that its principles should not be blended with 
those of the former. 

* Some metaphysicians, who appear to admit the truth of the foregoing reasoning, 
have farther urged, that for anything we can prove to the contrary, it is possible, that 
the unknown substance which has the qualities of extension, figure, and colour, maybe 
the same with the unknown substance which has the attributes of feeling, thinking, and 
willing. But besides that this is only an hypothesis, which amounts to nothing more 
than a mere possibility, even if it were true, it would no more be proper to say of mind, 
that it is material, than to say of body, that it is spiritual. 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. I. 


A similar distinction takes place among the questions which may 
be stated relative to the human mind.—Whether it be extended or 
unextended; whether or not it has any relation to place ; and (if 
it has) whether it resides in the brain, or be spread over the body, 
by diffusion ; are questions perfectly analogous to those which 
metaphysicians have started on the subject of matter. It is unne- 
cessarv to inquire, at present, whether or not they admit of answer. 
It is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that they are as widely 
and obviously different from the view, which I propose to take, of 
the human mind in the following work, as the reveries of Berkeley 
concerning the nonexistence of the material world, are from the 
conclusions of Newton, and his followers.—[It is farther evident, 
that the metaphysical opinions, which we may happen to have 
formed concerning the nature either of hocly or of mind, and the 
efficient causes by which their phenomena are produced, have no 
necessary connexion with our inquiries concerning the laws, accord¬ 
ing to which these phenomena take place.] Whether (for example), 
the cause of gravitation be material or immaterial, is a point about 
which two Newtonians may differ, while they agree perfectly in their 
physical opinions. It is sufficient, if both admit the general fact, 
that bodies tend to approach each other, with a force varying with 
their mutual distance, according to a certain law. In like manner, 
[in the study of the human mind, the conclusions to which we are 
led, by a careful examination of the phenomena it exhibits, have 
no necessary connexion with our opinions concerning its nature and 
essence.] That when two subjects of thought, for instance, 

have been repeatedly presented to the mind in conjunction, the one 
has a tendency to suggest the other, is a fact of which I can no 
more doubt, than of any thing for which I have the evidence of my 
senses; and it is plainly a fact totally unconnected with any hypo¬ 
thesis concerning the nature of the soul, and which will be as readily 
admitted by the materialist as by the Berkeleian. 

V. Reid saw clearly the distinction between an inquiry into the nature 
of Mind and into the laws of its phenomena. —Notwithstanding, How¬ 
ever, the reality and importance of this distinction, it has not hitherto 
been sufficiently attended to, by the philosophers who have treated 
of the human mind. Dr. Reid is perhaps the only one who has 
perceived it clearly, or at least who has kept it steadily in view, in 
all his inquiries. [In the writings, indeed, of several.other modern 
metaphysicians, we meet with a variety of important and well- 
ascertained facts; but, in general, these facts are blended with 
speculations upon subjects which are placed beyond the reach of 
the human faculties. It is this mixture of fact, and of hypothesis, 
which has brought the philosophy of mind into some degree of 
. nor . ever its real value be generally acknowledged, 
till the distinction I have endeavoured to illustrate, be understood, 
and attended to, by those who speculate on the subject. By con¬ 
fining their attention to the sensible qualities of body, and to the 


INTRODUCTION. 


5 

sensible phenomena it exhibits, we know what discoveries natural 
philosophers have made : and if the labours of metaphysicians shall 
ever be rewarded with similar success, it can only be, by atten¬ 
tive and patient reflection on the subjects of their own consciousness. 

I cannot help taking this opportunity of remarking, on the other 
hand, that if physical inquirers should think of again employing 
themselves in speculations about the nature of matter , instead of 
attempting to ascertain its sensible properties and laws (and of late 
there seems to be such a tendency among some of the followers of 
Boscovich), they will soon involve themselves in an inextricable 
labyrinth, and the first principles of physics will be rendered as 
mysterious and chimerical, as the pneumatology of the schoolmen. 

\ I. [The little progress (vide §. i.) which has hitherto been made in 
the philosophy of mind will not appear surprising to those who have 
attended to the history of natural knowledge. It is only since the 
time of Lord Bacon, that the study of it has been prosecuted with any 
degree of success, or that the proper method of conducting it has 
been generally understood.] There is even some reason for doubt¬ 
ing? from the crude speculations on medical and chemical subjects 
which are daily offered to the public, whether it be yet understood 
so completely as is commonly imagined; and whether a fuller 
illustration of the rules of philosophizing, than Bacon or his fol¬ 
lowers have given, might not be useful, even to physical inquirers. 

[When we reflect, in this manner, on the shortness of the period 
during which natural philosophy has been successfully cultivated; 
and, at the same time, consider how open to our examination the 
laws of matter are, in comparison of those which regulate the phe¬ 
nomena of thought, we shall (1) neither be disposed to wonder, 
that the philosophy of mind should still remain in its infancy, nor 
(2) be discouraged in our hopes concerning its future progress.] 
The excellent models of this species of investigation, which the 
writings of Dr. Reid exhibit, give us ground to expect that the 
time is not far distant, when it shall assume that rank which it is 
entitled to hold among the sciences. 

VII. [It woidd probably contribute much to accelerate the pro¬ 
gress of the philosophy of mind , if (1) a distinct explanation were 
given of its nature and object; and if ( 2 ) some general rules were 
laid down, with respect to the proper method of conducting the 
study of it.] .To this subject, however, which is of sufficient extent 
to furnish matter for a separate work, I cannot attempt to do jus¬ 
tice at present; and shall therefore confine myself to the illustra¬ 
tion of a few fundamental principles, which it will be of essential 
importance for us to keep in view in the following inquiries. 

Upon a slight attention to the operations of our own minds, they 
appear to be so complicated, and so infinitely diversified, that it 
seems to be impossible to reduce them to any general laws. In 
consequence, however, of a more accurate examination, the pro¬ 
spect clears up; and the phenomena, which appeared, at first, to be 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. I. 


6 


too various for our comprehension, are found to be the result of a 
comparatively small number of simple and uncompounded facul¬ 
ties, or of simple and uncompounded principles of action. These 
faculties and principles are the general laws of our constitution, 
and hold the same place in the philosophy of mind, that the gene¬ 
ral laws we investigate in physics, hold in that branch of science. 
In both cases, the laws which nature has established, are to be 
investigated only by an examination of facts ; and in both cases, a 
knowledge of these laws leads to an explanation of an infinite 
number of phenomena. 

VIII. Analogy between the investigation of the laws of Matter and of 
Mind. —[In the investigation of physical laws, it is well known, 
that our inquiries must always terminate in some general fact, of 
which no account can be given, but that such is the constitution of 
nature. HiT After we have established, for example, from the 
astronomical phenomena, the universality of the law of gravitation, 
it may still be asked, whether this law implies the constant agency 
of mind; and (upon the supposition that it does) whether it be 
probable that the Deity always operates immediately, or by means 
of subordinate instruments ? But these questions, however curious, 
do not fall under the province of the natural philosopher. It is 
sufficient for his purpose, if the universality of the fact be admitted. 

[The case is exactly the same in the philosophy of mind. When 
we have once ascertained a general fact ; such as, the various laws 
which regulate the association of ideas, or the dependence of 
memory on that effort of the mind which we call. Attention; it is 
all we ought to aim at, in this branch of science.] If we proceed 
no further than facts for which we have the evidence of our own 
consciousness, our conclusions will be no loss certain, than those in 
physics : but if our curiosity leads us to attempt an explanation of 
the association of ideas, by certain supposed vibrations, or other 
changes, in the state of the brain; or to explain memory, by means 
of supposed impressions and traces in the sensorium ; we evidently 
blend a collection of important and well-ascertained truths, with 
principles which rest wholly on conjecture.* 

* There is indeed one view of the connexion between Mind and Matter, which is 
perfectly agreeable to the just rules of philosophy. The object of this is, to ascertain 
the laws which regulate their union, without attempting to explain in what manner 
they are united. 

Lord Bacon was, I believe, the first who gave a distinct idea of this sort of specula¬ 
tion ; and I do not know that much progress has yet been made in it. In his books de 
Augmentis Scientiarum, a variety of subjects are enumerated, in order to illustrate its 
nature ; and, undoubtedly, most of these are in a high degree curious and important.— 
The following list comprehends the chief of those he has mentioned ; with the addition 
of several others, recommended to the consideration of Philosophers and of Medical 
Inquirers, by the late Dr. Gregory. See his Lectures on the Duties and Qualifications 
of a Physician. 

1. The doctrine of the preservation and improvement of the different senses. 

2. The history of the power and influence of imagination. 

3. The history of the several species of enthusiasm. 

4. The history of the various circumstances in parents, that have an influenco on 
conception, and the constitution and characters of their children. 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 

The observations which have been now stated, with respect to 
the proper limits of philosophical curiosity, have too frequently 
escaped the attention of speculative men, in all the different depart¬ 
ments of science. In none of these, however, has this inattention 
produced such a variety of errors and absurdities, as in the science 
of mind; a subject to which, till of late, it does not seem to have 
been suspected, that the general rules of philosophising are appli¬ 
cable. The strange mixture of fact and hypothesis, which the 
greater part of metaphysical inquiries exhibit, had led almost uni¬ 
versally to a belief, that it is only a very faint and doubtful light, 
which human reason can ever expect to throw on this dark, but 
interesting, field of speculation. 

IX. [Beside this inattention to the proper limits of philosophical 
inquiry , other sources of error, from which the science of physics 
is entirely exempted, have contributed to retard the progress of 
the philosophy of mind. Of these, the most important proceed 
from that disposition which is so natural to every person at the 
commencement of his philosophical pursuits, to explain intellectual 
and moral phenomena by the analogy of the material vjorld.\ 

I before took notice of those habits of inattention to the subjects 
of our consciousness, which take their rise in that period of our 
lives when we are necessarily employed in acquiring a knowledge 
of the properties and laws of matter. In consequence of this early 
familiarity with the phenomena of the material world, they appear 
to us less mysterious than those of mind; and we are apt to think 
that we have advanced one step in explaining the latter, when we 
can point out some analogy between them and the former. It is 
owing to the same circumstance, that we have scarcely any appro¬ 
priated language with respect to mind, and that the words which 
express its different operations, are almost all borrowed from the 
objects of our senses. It must, however, appear manifest, upon a 
very little reflection, that as the two subjects are essentially dis¬ 
tinct, and as each of them has its peculiar laws, the analogies we 
are pleased to fancy between them, can be of no use in illustrating 
either; and that it is no less unphilosophical to attempt an expla- 

5. The history of dreams. 

6. The history of the laws of custom and habit. 

7. The history of the effects of music, and of such other things as operate on the 
mind and body, in consequence of impressions made on the senses. 

8. The history of natural signs and language, comprehending the doctrine of 
physiognomy and of outward gesture. 

9. The history of the power and laws of the principle of imitation. 

To this list various other subjects might be added ; particularly the history of the laws 
of memory, in so far as they appear to be connected with the state of the body, and the 
history of the different species of madness. 

This view of the connexion between Mind and Matter does not fall properly under 
the plan of the following work ; in which my leading object is to ascertain the principles 
of our nature, in so far as. they can be discovered by attention to the subjects of our 
own consciousness ; and to apply these principles to explain the phenomena arising 
from them. Various incidental remarks, however, will occur, in the course of our 
inquiries,* tending to illustrate some of the subjects comprehended in the foregoing 
enumeration. 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. I. 


8 


nation of perception, or of the association of ideas, upon mechanical 
principles; than it would be to explain the phenomena of gravi¬ 
tation, by supposing, as some of the ancients did, the particles of 
matter to be animated with principles of motion; or to explain 
the chemical phenomena of elective attractions, by supposing the 
substances among which they are observed, to be endowed with 
thought and volition.—[The analogy of matter , therefore, can be of 
no use in the inquiries which form the object of the following 
work; but, on the contrary, is to be guarded against, as one of the 
principal sources of the errors to ivhich we are liable.]* 

X. Analogy not hitherto employed with sufficient caution by philoso¬ 
phers. —Among the different philosophers who have speculated con¬ 
cerning the human mind, very few indeed can be mentioned, who 
have at all times been able to guard against analogical theories. 
At the same time, it must be acknowledged, that since the publi¬ 
cation of Des Cartes’ writings, there has been a gradual, and, on 
the whole, a very remarkable improvement in this branch of 
science. One striking proof of this is, the contrast between the 
metaphysical speculations of some of the most eminent philosophers 
in England at the end of the seventeenth century , and those which we 
find in the systems, however imperfect, of the present age. Would 
any writer now offer to the world, such conclusions with respect 
to the mind, as are contained in the two following passages from 
Locke and Newton? “Habits” (says Locke), “seem to be but 
trains of motion, in the animal spirits, which, once set a-going, 
continue in the same steps they had been used to, which, by often 
treading, are worn into a smooth path.” And Newton himself has 
proposed the following query, concerning the manner in which the 
mind perceives external objects. “ Is not” (says he), “ the senso- 
rium of animals the place where the sentient substance is present, 
and to which the sensible species of things are brought, through 
the nerves and brain, that they may be perceived by the mind 
present in that place ? ” In the Course of the following Essays, I 
shall have occasion to quote various other passages from later 
writers, in which an attempt is made to explain the other pheno¬ 
mena of mind, upon similar principles. 

XI. Principal object of Reid’s inquiries. —It is however much to 
be regretted, that even since the period when philosophers began 
to adopt a more rational plan of inquiry with respect to such sub¬ 
jects, they have been obliged to spend so much of their time in 
clearing away the rubbish collected by their predecessors. This 
indeed was a preliminary step, which the state of the science, and 
the conclusions to which it had led, rendered absolutely necessary ; 
for, however important the positive advantages may be, which are 

* Five impediments to the advancement of metaphysical speculations (1) Appre¬ 
hension of their study being out of the reach of human faculties. (2) A belief that 
they have no relation to the business of life. (3) Lateness of the period when first 
successfully cultivated. (4) Inattention to the proper limits of philosophical inquiry. 
(5) Analogy of matter.— Ed. 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


to be expected from its future progress, they are by no means so 
essential to human improvement and happiness, as [a satisfactory 
refutation of that sceptical philosophy , which had struck at the root 
of all knowledge, and all belief. Such a refutation seems to have 
been the principal object which Dr. Reid proposed to himself in 
his metaphysical inquiries; and to this object his labours have 
been directed with so much ability, candour, and perseverance, 
that unless future sceptics should occupy a ground very different 
from that of their predecessors, it is not likely that the controversy 
will ever be renewed.] The rubbish being now removed, and the 
foundations laid, it is time to begin the superstructure. The 
progress which I have made in it is, I am sensible, very incon¬ 
siderable ; yet I flatter myself, that the little I have done will be 
sufficient to illustrate the importance of the study, and to recom¬ 
mend the subjects of which I am to treat, to the attention of 
others. After the remarks which I have now made, the reader 
will not be surprised to find, that I have studiously avoided the 
consideration of those questions which have been agitated in the 
present age, between the patrons of the sceptical philosophy, and 
their opponents. These controversies have, in truth, no peculiar 
connexion with the inquiries on which I am to enter. It is indeed 
only by an examination of the principles of our nature, that they 
can be brought to a satisfactory conclusion; but, supposing them 
to remain undecided, our sceptical doubts concerning the certainty 
of human knowledge, would no more affect the philosophy of 
mind, than they would affect any of the branches of physics; nor 
would our doubts concerning even the existence of mind, affect 
this branch of science, any more than the doubts of the Berkeleian, 
concerning the existence of matter, affect his opinions in natural 
philosophy. 

To what purposes the philosophy of the human mind, according 
to the view which I propose to take of it, is subservient, I shall 
endeavour to explain, at some length, in the following chapter. 


CHAPTER II. 

OF THE UTILITY OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

I. [It has been often remarked, that there is a mutual connexion 
between the different arts and sciences: and that the improvements 
which are made in one branch of human knowledge, frequently 
throw light on others, to which it has apparently a very remote 
relation.] The modern discoveries in astronomy and in pure mathe¬ 
matics, have contributed to bring the art of navigation to a degree 
of perfection formerly unknown. The rapid progress which has 
been lately made in astronomy, anatomy, and botany, has been 
chiefly owing to the aid which these sciences have received from 
the art of the optician. 



10 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


Although, however, the different departments of science and of 
art mutually reflect light on each other, it is not always- necessary 
either for the philosopher or the artist to aim at the acquisition of 
general knowledge. Both of them may safely take many principles 
for granted, without being able to demonstrate their truth. A 

seaman, though ignorant of mathematics, may apply, with correct¬ 
ness and dexterity, the rules for finding the longitude. An astro¬ 
nomer or a botanist, though ignorant of optics, may avail himself of 
the use of the telescope or the microscope. 

These observations are daily exemplified in the case of the artist; 
who has seldom either inclination or leisure to speculate concerning 
the principles of his art. It is rarely, however, we meet with a man 
of science who has confined his studies wholly to one branch of 
knowledge. That curiosity, which he has been accustomed to in¬ 
dulge in the course of his favourite pursuit, will naturally extend 
itself to every remarkable object which falls under his observation, 
and can scarcely fail to be a source of perpetual dissatisfaction to 
his mind, till it has been so far gratified as to enable him to explain 
all the various phenomena which his professional habits are every 
day presenting to his view. 

II. All the pursuits of life are connected with the study of the Intellec¬ 
tual Powers. —[As every particular science is in this manner connected 
with others, to which it naturally directs the attention, so all the 
pursuits of life , whether they terminate in speculation or action, 
are connected with that general science which has the human mind for 
its object. The powers of the understanding are instruments which 
all men employ ; and his curiosity must be small indeed, who passes 
through life in a total ignorance of faculties which his wants and 
necessities force him habitually to exercise, and which so remark¬ 
ably distinguish man from the lower animals.] The active principles 
of our nature, which, by their various modifications and combinations, 
give rise to all the moral differences among men, are fitted, in a 
still higher degree, if possible, to interest those who are either dis¬ 
posed to reflect on their own characters, or to observe, with atten¬ 
tion, the characters of others. The phenomena resulting from these 
faculties and principles of the mind, are every moment soliciting 
our notice, and open to our examination a field of discovery as 
inexhaustible as the phenomena of the material world, and exhibit¬ 
ing not less striking marks of divine wisdom. 

III. Advantages of a successful analysis of them. —While all the 
sciences and all the pursuits of life have this common tendency to 
lead our inquiries to the philosophy of human nature, this last 
branch of knowledge borroivs its principles from no other science what¬ 
ever. [Hence there is (1) something in the study of it which is 
peculiarly gratifying to a reflecting and inquisitive mind, and (2) 
something in the conclusions to which it leads on which the mind 
rests with peculiar satisfaction. (3) Till once our opinions are in 
some degree fixed with respect to it, we abandon ourselves, with 


.INTRODUCTION. 


11 

reluctance, to particular scientific investigations ; and (4) on the 
other hand, a general knowledge of such of its principles as are 
most fitted to excite the curiosity, not only prepares us for engaging 
in other pursuits with more liberal and comprehensive views, but 
leaves us at liberty to prosecute them with a more undivided and con¬ 
centrated attention.] 

It is not, however, merely as a subject of speculative curiosity 
that the principles of the human mind deserve a careful examina¬ 
tion. The advantages to be expected from a successful analysis of 
it are various; and some of them of such importance, as to render 
it astonishing, that, amidst all the success with which the subordi¬ 
nate sciences have been cultivated, this, which comprehends the prin¬ 
ciples of all of them, should be still suffered to remain in its infancy. 

I shall endeavour to illustrate a few of these advantages, begin¬ 
ning with what appears to me to be the most important of any; 
[(5) the light which a philosophical analysis of the principles of the 
mind would necessarily throw on the subjects of intellectual and 
moral education.] 

IY. [ The most essential objects of education are the two following: 
First , to cultivate all the various principles of our nature, both 
speculative and active, in such a manner as to bring them to the 
greatest perfection of which they are susceptible; and, secondly , 
by watching over the impressions and associations which the mind 
receives in early life, to secure it against the influence of prevailing 
errors ; and, as far as possible, to engage its prepossessions on the 
side of truth.] It is only upon a philosophical analysis of the mind, 
that a systematical plan can be founded for the accomplishment of 
either of these purposes. 

There are few individuals whose education has been conducted 
in every respect with attention and judgment. Almost every man 
of reflection is conscious, when he arrives at maturity, of many 
defects in his mental powers, and of many inconvenient habits, 
which might have been prevented or remedied in his infancy or 
youth. Such a consciousness is the first step towards improvement; 
and the person who feels it, if he is possessed of resolution and 
steadiness, will not scruple to begin, even in advanced years, a new 
course of education for himself. [The degree of reflection and 
observation, indeed, which is necessary for this purpose, cannot be 
expected from any one at a very early period of life, as these are the 
last powers of the mind which unfold themselves ; but it is never 
too late to think of the improvement of our faculties; and much 
progress may be made in the art of applying them success¬ 
fully to their proper objects, or in obviating the inconveniences 
resulting from their imperfection, not only in manhood, but in 
old age.] 

It is not, however, to the mistakes of our early instructors, that 
all our intellectual defects are to be ascribed. There is no profes¬ 
sion or pursuit which has not habits peculiar to itself, and which 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


12 


does not leave some powers of the mind dormant, while it exercises 
and improves the rest. If we wish, therefore, to cultivate the 
mind to the extent of its capacity, we must not rest satisfied with 
that employment which its faculties receive from our particular 
situation in life. It is not in the awkward and professional form 
of a mechanic , who has strengthened particular muscles of his body 
by the habits of his trade, that we are to look for the perfection of 
our animal nature; neither is it among men of confined pursuits, 
whether speculative or active, that we are to expect to find the 
human mind in its highest state of cultivation. A variety of exer¬ 
cises is necessary to preserve the animal frame in vigour and beauty ; 
and a variety of those occupations which literature and science 
afford, added to a promiscuous intercourse with the world, in the 
habits of conversation and business, is no less necessary for the 
improvement of the understanding. I acknowledge, that [there are 
some professions in which a man of very confined acquisitions may 
arrive at the first eminence, and in which he ivill perhaps be the 
more likely to excel , the more he has concentrated the ivhole force of 
his mind to one particular object .] But such a person, however 
distinguished in his own sphere, is educated merely to be a literary 
artisan, and neither attains the perfection nor the happiness of his 
nature. “ That education only can he considered as complete and 
generous, which ” (in the language of Milton) “ fits a man to per¬ 
form justly, skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices, both pri¬ 
vate and public, of peace and of war.”— Tractate of Education. 

I hope it will not be supposed, from the foregoing observations, 
that they are meant to recommend an indiscriminate attention to 
all the objects of speculation and of action. Nothing can be more 
evident, than the necessity of limiting the field of our exertion, if 
we wish to benefit society by our labours. But it is perfectly 
consistent with the most intense application to our favourite pur¬ 
suit, to cultivate that general acquaintance with letters and with the 
world which may be sufficient to enlarge the mind, and to preserve 
it from any danger of contracting the pedantry of a particular pro¬ 
fession. In many cases, (as was already remarked) the sciences 
reflect light on each other ; and the general acquisitions which we 
have made in other pursuits, may furnish us with useful helps for 
the farther prosecution of our own. But even in those instances in 
which the case is otherwise, and in which these liberal accomplish¬ 
ments must be purchased by the sacrifice of a part of our profes¬ 
sional eminence, the acquisition of them will amply repay any loss 
we may sustain. [It ought not to be the leading object of any one, 
to become an eminent metaphysician, mathematician, or poet, but 
to render himself happy as an individual, and an agreeable, a re¬ 
spectable, and a useful member of society. A man who loses his 
sight, improves the sensibility of his touch ; but who would consent, 
for such a recompense, to part with the pleasures which he receives 
from the eye 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


Y. Farther advantages resulting from a knowledge of our capacities. 
—It is almost unnecessary for me to remark, how much individuals 
would be assisted in the proper and liberal culture of the mind, if 
they were previously led to take a comprehensive survey of human 
nature in all its parts ; of its various faculties, and powers, and 
sources of enjoyment, and of the effects which are produced on 
these principles by particular situations. [It is such a knowledge 
alone of the capacities of the mind, that (1) can enable a person to 
judge of his own acquisitions, and (2) to employ the most effectual 
means for supplying his defects and removing his inconvenient 
habits. (3) Without some degree of it, every man is in danger of 
contracting bad habits before he is aware, and (4) of suffering some 
of his powers to go to decay, for want of proper exercise.] 

VI. True principles on which Education should be conducted consi¬ 
dered. —If the business of early education were more thoroughly 
and more generally understood, it would be less necessary for indi¬ 
viduals, when they arrive at maturity, to form plans of improvement 
for themselves. [But education never can be systematically directed 
to its proper objects, till we have obtained, not only an accurate 
analysis of the general principles of our nature, and an account of 
the most important laws which regulate their operation; but an 
explanation of the various modifications and combinations of these 
principles, which produce that diversity of talents, genius, and 
character, we observe among men.] To instruct youth in the 
languages and in the sciences is comparatively of little importance, 
if we are inattentive, to the habits they acquire, and are not careful 
in giving to all their different faculties, and all their different 
principles of action, a proper degree of employment. [Abstracting 
entirely from the culture of their moral powers, how extensive and 
difficult is the business of conducting their intellectual improve¬ 
ment ! To watch over the associations which they form in their 
tender years; to give them early habits of mental activity; to rouse 
their curiosity, and to direct it to proper objects ; to exercise their 
ingenuity and invention: to cultivate in their minds a turn for 
speculation, and at the same time preserve their attention alive to 
the objects around them; to awaken their sensibilities to the beau¬ 
ties of nature, and to inspire them with a relish for intellectual 
enjoyment;]—these form but a part of the business of education, 
and yet the execution even of this part requires an acquaintance 
with the general principles of our nature, which seldom falls to 
the share of those to whom the instruction of youth is commonly 
entrusted. Nor will such a theoretical knowledge of the human 
mind as I have now described, be always sufficient in practice. 
An uncommon degree of sagacity is frequently requisite, in order 
to accommodate general rules to particular tempers and characters. 
In whatever way we choose to account for it, whether by original 
organisation or by the operation of moral causes in very early 
infancy, no fact can be more undeniable, than that theie aie 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


important differences discernible in the minds of children, previous 
to that period at which, in general, their intellectual education 
commences. There is, too, a certain hereditary character (whether 
resulting from physical constitution, or caught from imitation and 
the influence of situation) .which appears remarkably in particular 
families. One race, for a succession of generations, is distinguished 
by a genius for the abstract sciences, while it is deficient in vivacity, 
in imagination, and in taste : another is no less distinguished for 
wit, and gaiety, and fancy; while it appears incapable of patient 
attention or of profound research. [The system of education which 
is proper to be adopted in particular cases, ought undoubtedly to 
have some reference to these circumstances, and to be calculated, as 
much as possible, to develope and to cherish those intellectual and 
active principles in which a natural deficiency is most to be appre¬ 
hended.] Montesquieu, and other speculative politicians, have 
insisted much on the reference which education and laws should 
have to climate. I shall not take upon me to say how far their 
conclusions on this subject are just; but I am fully persuaded, that 
there is a foundation in philosophy and good sense for accommo¬ 
dating, at a very early period of life, the education of individuals 
to those particular turns of mind to which, from hereditary pro¬ 
pensities, or from moral situation, they may be presumed to have 
a natural tendency. 

VII. Why such different opinions upon this subject. —There are few' 
subjects more hackneyed than that of education ; and yet there is 
none , upon which the opinions of the world are still more divided. [Nor 
is this surprising; for most of those 'who have speculated concerning 
it, have confined their attention chiefly to incidental questions about 
the comparative advantages of public or private instruction, or the 
utility of particular languages or sciences; without attempting a 
previous examination of those faculties and principles of the mind, 
which it is the great object of education to improve.] Many excel¬ 
lent detached observations, indeed, both on the intellectual and 
moral powers, are to be collected from the writings of ancient and 
modern authors; but I do not know, that in any language an 
attempt has been made to analyse and illustrate the principles of 
human nature, in order to lay a philosophical foundation for their 
proper culture. 

I have even heard some very ingenious and intelligent men dis¬ 
pute the propriety of so systematical a plan of instruction. The 
most successful and splendid exertions, both in the sciences and 
arts, (it has been frequently remarked,) have been made by indi¬ 
viduals, in whose minds the seeds of genius were allowed to shoot 
up, wild and free; while, from the most careful and skilful tuition, 
seldom anything results above mediocrity. I shall not, at present’ 
enter into any discussions with respect to the certainty of the fact 
on which this opinion is founded. Supposing the fact to be com¬ 
pletely established, it must still be remembered, that [< originality of 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 

genius does not always imply vigour and comprehensiveness, and 
liberality of mind; and that it is desirable only, in so far as it is 
compatible with these more valuable qualities.] I have already 
hinted, that there are some pursuits, in which, as they require the 
exertion only of a small number of our faculties, an individual, who 
has a natural turn for them, will be more likely to distinguish 
himself, by being suffered to follow his original bias, than if his 
attention were distracted by a more liberal course of study.* But 
wherever such men are to be found, they must be considered, on 
the most favourable supposition, as having sacrificed, to a certain 
degree, the perfection and the happiness of their nature, to the 
amusement or instruction of others. It is, too, in times of general 
darkness and barbarism, that what is commonly called originality 
of genius most frequently appears; and surely the great aim of an 
enlightened and benevolent philosophy, is not to rear a small 
number of individuals, who may be regarded as prodigies in an 
ignorant and admiring age, but to diffuse, as widely as possible, 
that degree of cultivation which may enable the bulk of a people 
to possess all the intellectual and moral improvement of which 
their nature is susceptible. “ Original genius” (says Voltaire) 
“ occurs but seldom in a nation where the literary taste is formed. 
The number of cultivated minds which there abound, like the trees 
in a thick and flourishing forest, prevent any single individual from 
rearing his head far above the rest. Where trade is in few hands, 
we meet with a small number of overgrown fortunes in the midst 
of a general poverty: in proportion as it extends, opulence becomes 
general, and great fortunes rare. It is, precisely, because there is 
at present much light, and much cultivation, in France, that we 
are led to complain of the want of superior genius.”f 

VIII. Objection to the advantages of Education answered .—[To what 
purpose, indeed, it may be said, all this labour ? Is not the impor¬ 
tance of every thing to man, to be ultimately estimated by its 
tendency to promote his happiness ? And is not our daily expe¬ 
rience sufficient to convince us, that this is, in general, by no means 
proportioned to the culture which his nature has received 9 —Nay, is 
there not some ground for suspecting, that the lower orders of men 
enjoy, on the whole, a more enviable condition, than their more 
enlightened and refined superiors ?] 

The truth, I apprehend, is, that happiness, in so far as it arises 
from the mind itself, will be always proportioned to the degree of 
perfection which its powers have attained; but that in cultivating 

* Vide §. iv p. 12. 

•f Chateaubriand has beautifully described the same sentiment in his famous address 
to the Peers of France in 1815 “ The time is not yet forgotten when Death made his 

frightful progress amongst us, with Liberty and Equality for his supporters. When 
plunged again into anarchy, how are you to reanimate the Hercules on his rock, who 
alone was able to stifle the monster ? In the history of the world there have been Jive 
or six such men. In the coarse of a thousand years, your posterity may see another 
Napoleon : but you must not expect it.”— Wright's Life of Louis- Philippe , p. 552. Ed. 


INTRODUCTION". 


CHAP. II. 


16 


these powers, with a view to this most important of all objects, it 
is essentially necessary that such a degree of attention be bestowed 
on all of them, as may preserve them in that state of relative 
strength, which appears to be agreeable to the intentions of nature. 
[In consequence of an exclusive attention to the culture of the 
imagination, the taste, the reasoning faculty, or any of the active 
principles, it is possible that the pleasures of human life may be 
diminished, or its pains increased; but the inconveniences which 
are experienced in such cases, are not to be ascribed to education, 
but to a partial and injudicious education .] In such cases, it is 
possible, that the poet, the metaphysician, or the man of taste and 
refinement, may appear to disadvantage, when compared with the 
vulgar ; for such is the benevolent appointment of Providence 
with respect to the lower orders, that, although not one principle 
of their nature be completely unfolded, the whole of these principles 
preserve among themselves that balance which is favourable to the 
tranquillity of their minds, and to a prudent and steady conduct in 
the limited sphere which is assigned to them, far more completely, 
than in those of their superiors, whose education has been conducted 
on an erroneous or imperfect system : but all this, far from weak¬ 
ening the force of the foregoing observations, only serves to demon¬ 
strate how impossible it always will be, to form a rational plan for 
the improvement of the mind, without an accurate and comprehen¬ 
sive knowledge of the principles of the human constitution. 

[The remarks which have been already made, are sufficient to 
illustrate the dangerous consequences which are likely to result from 
a partial and injudicious cultivation of the mind ; and, at the same 
time, to point out the utility of the intellectual philosophy , in enabling 
us to preserve a proper balance among all its various faculties, 
principles of action, and capacities of enjoyment.] Many additional 
observations might be offered, on the tendency which an accurate 
analysis of its powers might, probably, have to suggest rules for 
their farther improvement, and for a more successful application of 
them to their proper purposes : but this subject I shall not prose¬ 
cute at present, as the illustration of it is one of the leading objects 
of the following work.—[That the memory, the imagination, or the 
reasoning faculty, are to be instantly strengthened in consequence 
of our speculations concerning their nature, it would be absurd to 
suppose; but it is surely far from being unreasonable to think, that 
an acquaintance with the laws which regulate these powers, may 
suggest some useful rules for their gradual cultivation: for remedy¬ 
ing their defects, in the case of individuals, and even for extending 
those limits, which nature seems, at first view, to have assigned 
them.] 

To how great a degree of perfection the intellectual and moral 
nature of man is capable of being raised by cultivation, it is difficult 
to conceive. $Sir Ihe effects of early, continued, and systematical 
education in the case of those children who are trained, for the sake 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 

of gain, to feats of strength and agility, justify, perhaps, the most 
sanguine views which it is possible for a philosopher to form, with 
respect to the improvement of the species. 

IX. The necessity , force , and natural effects of authority .—I now 
proceed to consider, how far the philosophy of mind may be useful 
in accomplishing the second object of education (vide §. iv. p. 11); 
by assisting us in the management of early impressions and asso¬ 
ciations. 

[By far the greater part of the opinions on which we act in life, 
are not the result of our own investigations; but are adopted 
implicitly, in infancy and youth, upon the authority of others.] 
Even the great principles of morality, although implanted in every 
heart, are commonly aided and cherished, at least to a certain 
degree, by the care of our instructors.—All this is undoubtedly 
agreeable to the intentions of nature ; and, indeed, were the case 
otherwise, society could not subsist; for nothing can be more 
evident, than that the bulk of mankind, condemned as they are to 
laborious occupations, which are incompatible with intellectual 
improvement, are perfectly incapable of forming their own opinions 
on some of the most important subjects that can employ the human 
mind. It is evident, at the same time, that as no system of educa¬ 
tion is perfect, a variety of prejudices must , in this way, take an early 
hold of our belief; so as to acquire over it an influence not inferior 
to that of the most incontrovertible truths. When a child hears, 
either a speculative absurdity, or an erroneous principle of action, 
recommended and enforced daily, by the same voice which first 
conveyed to it those simple and sublime lessons of morality and 
religion which are congenial to its nature, is it to be wondered at, 
that, in future life, it should find it so difficult to eradicate pre¬ 
judices which have twined their roots with all the essential prin¬ 
ciples of the human frame?—If such, however, be the obvious 
intentions of nature, with respect to those orders of men who are 
employed in bodily labour, it is equally clear, that she meant to 
impose it as a double obligation on those who receive the advan¬ 
tages of a liberal education, to examine, with the most scrupulous 
care, the foundation of all those received opinions, which have any 
connexion with morality, or with human happiness. If the multi¬ 
tude must be led, it is of consequence, surely, that it should be led 
by enlightened conductors ; by men who are able to distinguish 
truth from error; and to draw the line between those prejudices 
which are innocent or salutary, (if indeed there are any prejudices 
which,, are really salutary,) and those which are hostile to the 
interests of virtue and of mankind. 

X. Preliminary step in entering upon the study of metaphysical 
science .—QIn such a state of society as that in which we live, the 
prejudices of a moral, a political, and a religious nature, which we 
imbibe in early life , are so various, and at the same time so in¬ 
timately blended with the belief we entertain of the most sacred 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


18 


and important truths, that a great part of the life of a philosopher 
must necessarily be devoted, not so much to the acquisition of new 
knowledge, as to unlearn the errors to which he had been taught to 
give an implicit assent , before the dawn of reason and reflection .] And 
unless he submit in this manner to bring all his opinions to the test 
of a severe examination, his ingenuity, and his learning, instead of 
enlightening the world, will only enable him to give an additional 
currency, and an additional authority, to established errors. To 
attempt such a struggle against early prejudices, is, indeed, the 
professed aim of all philosophers;* but how few are to be found 
who have force of mind sufficient for accomplishing their object; 
and who, in freeing themselves from one set of errors, do not allow 
themselves to be carried away with another! To succeed in it 
completely, Lord Bacon seems to have thought, (in one of the most 
remarkable passages of his writings), to be more than can well be 
expected from human frailty. “Nemo adhuc tanta mentis con- 
stantia inventus est, ut decreverit, et sibi imposuerit, theorias et 
notiones communes penitus abolere, et intellectum abrasum et 
sequum ad particularia, de integro, applicare. Itaque ilia ratio 
humana, quam habemus, ex multa fide, et multo etiam casu, nee- 
non ex puerilibus, quas primo hausimus, notionibus, farrago quae- 
dam est, et congeries. Quod siquis, aetata matura, et sensibus in- 
tegris, et mente repurgata,- se ad experientiam, et ad particularia 
de integro applicet, de eo melius sperandum est.”f 

XI. [Nor is it merely in order to free the mind from the influence 
of error, that it is useful to examine the foundation of established 
opinions. It is such an examination alone , that, in an inquisitive 
age like the present, can secure a philosopher from the danger of 
unlimited scepticism .] To this extreme, indeed, the complexion of 
the times is more likely to give him a tendency, than to implicit 
credulity. In the former ages of ignorance and superstition, the 
intimate association which had been formed, in the prevailing sys¬ 
tems of education, between truth and error, had given to the latter 
an ascendant over the minds of men, which it could never have 
acquired, if divested of . such an alliance. The case has, of late 
years, been most remarkably reversed: the common sense of man¬ 
kind, in consequence of the growth of a more liberal spirit of in¬ 
quiry, has revolted against many of those absurdities, which had so 
long held human reason in captivity; and it was, perhaps, more 
than could reasonably have been expected, that, in the first mo¬ 
ments of their emancipation, philosophers should have stopped 

* Vide § xi. Chap. i. Introduction (p. 8). * 

t “No one has yet appeared of such strength of mind as to resolve and lay it down 
for a law to himself utterly to reject theories and popular opinions, and unprejudiced 
to apply his mind clear and impartial to facts. For human reason, such as we have 
it, is a mixture and accumulation of credulity, of casualties, and of the childish notions 
which we first received. But if any one of unimpaired faculties and of purified mind, 
would,, commencing a new course, apply himself to experience and to facts, good hopes 
might be entertained of him.” 


INTRODUCTION. 


19 

short, at the precise boundary, which cooler reflection, and more 
moderate views, would have prescribed. The fact is, that they have 
passed far beyond it; and that, in their zeal to destroy prejudices, 
they have attempted to tear up by the roots, many of the best and 
happiest and most essential principles of our nature. Having 
remarked the powerful influence of education over the mind, they 
have concluded, that man is wholly a factitious being; not recollect¬ 
ing, that this very susceptibility of education presupposes certain 
original principles, which are common to the whole species; and 
that, as error can only take a permanent hold of a candid mind by 
being grafted on truths, which it is unwilling or. unable to eradi¬ 
cate ; even the influence, which false and absurd opinions occa¬ 
sionally acquire over the belief, instead of being an argument for 
universal scepticism, is the most decisive argument against it; inas¬ 
much as it shows, that there are some truths so incorporated and 
identified with our nature, that they can reconcile us even to the 
absurdities and contradictions with which we suppose them to be 
inseparably connected. The sceptical philosophers, for example, 
of the present age, have frequently attempted to hold up to ridicule, 
those contemptible and puerile superstitions, which have disgraced 
the creeds of some of the most enlightened nations; and which 
have not only commanded the assent, but the reverence, of men of 
the most accomplished understandings. But these histories of 
human imbecility are, in truth, the strongest testimonies which can 
be produced, to prove, how wonderful is the influence of the 
fundamental principles of morality over the belief; when they are 
able to sanctify, in the apprehensions of mankind, every extravagant 
opinion, and every unmeaning ceremony, which early education has 
taught us to associate with them. 

XII. How far implicit credulity and unlimited scepticism related. 
—[That implicit credulity is a mark of a feeble mind, will not be 
disputed; but it may not perhaps be as generally acknowledged, 
that the case is the same with unlimited scepticism: on the contrary, 
we are sometimes apt to ascribe this disposition to a more than 
ordinary vigour of intellect.] Such a prejudice was by no means 
unnatural at that period in the history of modern Europe, when 
reason first began to throw off the yoke of authority; and when it 
unquestionably required a superiority of understanding, as well as 
of intrepidity, for an individual to resist the contagion of prevailing 
superstition. But in the present age, in which the tendency of 
fashionable opinions is directly opposite to those of the vulgar; the 
philosophical creed, or the philosophical scepticism of by far the 
greater number of those who value themselves on an emancipation 
from popular errors, arises from the very same weakness with the 
credulity of the multitude: nor is it going too far to say, with 
Bousseau, that “ He who, in the end of the eighteenth century, 
has brought himself to abandon all his early principles without 
discrimination, would probably have been a bigot in the days of the 

c 2 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


20 


League.” [In the midst of these contrary impulses, of fashionable 
and of vulgar prejudices, he alone evinces the superiority and the 
strength of his mind, who is able to disentangle truth from error; 
and to oppose the clear conclusions of his own unbiassed faculties, 
to the united clamours of superstition, and of false philosophy.]— 
Such are the men, whom nature marks out to be the lights of the 
world; to fix the wavering opinions of the multitude, and to impress 
their own characters on that of their age. 

For securing the mind completely from the weaknesses I have 
now been describing, and enabling it to maintain a steady course of 
inquiry, between implicit credulity and unlimited scepticism, the 
most important of all qualities is a sincere and devoted attachment 
to truth; which seldom fails to be accompanied with.a manly con¬ 
fidence in the clear conclusions of human reason. It is such a con¬ 
fidence, united (as it generally is) with personal intrepidity, which 
forms what the French writers call force of character; one of the 
rarest endowments, it must be confessed, of our species ; but which, 
of all endowments, is the most essential for rendering a philosopher 
happy in himself, and a blessing to mankind. 

There is, I think, good reason for hoping, that the sceptical ten¬ 
dency of the present age, will be only a temporary evil. While it 
continues, however, it is an evil of the most alarming nature ; and, 
as it extends, in general, not only to religion and morality, but, in 
some measure, also to politics, and the conduct of life, it is equally 
fatal to the comfort of the individual, and to the improvement of 
society. Even in its most inoffensive form, when it happens to be 
united with a peaceable disposition and a benevolent heart, it can¬ 
not fail to have the effect of damping every active and patriotic 
exertion. Convinced that truth is placed beyond the reach of the 
human faculties; and doubtful how far the prejudices we despise 
may not be essential to the well-being of society, we resolve to 
abandon completely all speculative inquiries; and suffering our¬ 
selves to be carried quietly along with the stream of popular 
opinions, and of fashionable manners, determine to amuse ourselves, 
the best way we can, with business or pleasure, during our short 
passage through this scene of illusions. But he who thinks more 
favourably of the human powers, and who believes that reason was 
given to man to direct him to his duty and his happiness, will 
despise the suggestions of this timid philosophy; and while he is 
conscious that he is guided in his inquiries only by the love of truth, 
will rest assured that their result will be equally favourable to his 
own comfort, and to the best interests of mankind. What, indeed, 
will be the particular effects in the first instance, of that general 
diffusion of knowledge, which the art of printing must sooner or 
later produce, and of that spirit of reformation with which it cannot 
fail to be accompanied, it is beyond the reach of human sagacity to 
conjecture; but unless we choose to abandon ourselves entirely to 
a desponding scepticism, we must hope and believe, that the pro- 


INTRODUCTION. 


21 

gress of human reason can never be a source of permanent disorder 
to the world; and that they alone have cause to apprehend the 
consequences, who are led, by the imperfection of our present insti¬ 
tutions, to feel themselves interested in perpetuating the prejudices, 
and follies, of their species. 

XIII. Value of correct early impressions .—From the observations 
which have been made, it sufficiently appears, that, in order to 
secure the mind, on the one hand, from the influence of prejudice, 
and, on the other, from a tendency to unlimited scepticism, it is 
necessary that it should be able to distinguish the original and 
universal principles and laws of human nature from the adven¬ 
titious effect of local situation. But if in the case of an individual 
who has received an imperfect or erroneous education, such a 
knowledge puts it in his power to correct, to a certain degree, his 
own bad habits, and to surmount his own speculative errors; it 
enables him to be useful, in a much higher degree, to those whose 
education he has an opportunity of superintending from early infancy. 
[Such, and so permanent, is the effect of first impressions on the 
character, that, although a philosopher may succeed, by perse¬ 
verance, in freeing his reason from the prejudices with which it was 
entangled, they will still retain some hold of his imagination and 
his affections; and, therefore, however enlightened his under¬ 
standing may be in his hours of speculation, his philosophical 
opinions will frequently lose their influence over his mind, in 
those very situations in which their practical assistance is most 
required; when his temper is soured by misfortune, or when he 
engages in the pursuits of life, and exposes himself to the contagion 
of popular errors. His opinions are supported merely by specu¬ 
lative arguments; and, instead of being connected with any of 
the active principles of his nature, are counteracted and thwarted 
by some of the most powerful of them. How different would the 
case be if education were conducted from the beginning with atten¬ 
tion and judgment!] Were the same pains taken to impress truth 
on the mind in early infancy that is often taken to inculcate error, 
the great principles of our conduct would not only be juster than 
they are, but, in consequence of the aid which they would receive 
from the imagination and the heart, trained to conspire with them 
in the same direction, they would render us happier in ourselves, 
and would influence our practice more powerfully and more habi¬ 
tually. There is surely nothing in error which is more congenial to 
the mind than truth. On the contrary, when exhibited separately 
and alone to the understanding, it shocks our reason and provokes 
our ridicule; and it is only (as I had occasion already to remark) 
by an alliance with truths, which we find it difficult to renounce, 
that it can obtain our assent or command our reverence. What 
advantages then might be derived from a proper attention to early 
impressions and associations, in giving support to those principles 
which are connected with human happiness! The long reign of 


22 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


error in the world, and the influence it maintains, even in an age 
of liberal inquiry, far from being favourable to the supposition, that 
human reason is destined to be for ever the sport of prejudice and 
absurdity, demonstrates the tendency which there is to permanence 
in established opinions and in established institutions, and promises 
an eternal stability to true philosophy, when it shall once have 
acquired the ascendant, and when proper means shall be employed 
to support it by a more perfect system of education. 

Let us suppose, for a moment, that this happy era were arrived, 
and that all the prepossessions of childhood and youth were directed 
to support the pure and sublime truths of an enlightened morality. 
With what ardour and with what transport would the understand¬ 
ing, when arrived at maturity, proceed in the search of truth; 
when, instead of being obliged to struggle, at every step, with 
early prejudices, its oflice was merely to add the force of philoso¬ 
phical conviction to impressions which are equally delightful to 
the imagination and dear to the heart! The prepossessions of 
childhood would, through the whole of life, be gradually acquiring 
strength from the enlargement of our knowledge, and, in their 
turn, would fortify the conclusions of our reason against the scep¬ 
tical suggestions of disappointment or melancholy. 

[Our daily experience may convince us how susceptible the 
tender mind is of deep impressions, and what important and per¬ 
manent effects are produced on the characters and the happiness of 
individuals, by the casual associations formed in childhood among 
the various ideas, feelings, and affections with which they were 
habitually occupied.] It is the business of education, not to coun¬ 
teract this constitution of nature, but to give it a proper direction; 
and the miserable consequences to which it leads, when under an 
improper regulation, only show what an important instrument of 
human improvement it might be rendered in more skilful hands. 
If it be possible to interest the imagination and the heart in favour 
of error, it is, at least, no less possible to interest them in favour of 
truth. If it be possible to extinguish all the most generous and 
heroic feelings of our nature, by teaching us to connect the idea of 
them with those of guilt and impiety, it is surely equally possible 
to cherish and strengthen them, by establishing the natural alliance 
between our duty and our happiness. If it be possible for the 
influence of fashion to veil the native deformity of vice, and to 
give to low and criminal indulgences the appearance of spirit, of 
elegance, and of gaiety, can we doubt of the possibility of con¬ 
necting, in the tender mind, these pleasing associations with pur¬ 
suits that are truly worthy and honourable ? There are few 

men to be found among those who have received the advantages 
of a liberal education, who do not retain, through life, that admi¬ 
ration of the heroic ages of Greece and Rome with which the 
classical authors once inspired them. It is, in truth, a fortunate 
prepossession on the whole, and one of which I should be sorry 


INTRODUCTION. 


23 


to counteract the influence. But are there not others of equal 
importance to morality and to happiness, with which the mind 
might, at the same period of life, be inspired ? If the first concep¬ 
tions, for example, which an infant formed of the Deity, and its 
first moral perceptions, were associated with the early impressions 
produced on the heart by the beauties of nature, or the charms of 
poetical description, those serious thoughts which are resorted to 
by most men, merely as a source of consolation in adversity, and 
which, on that v.ery account, are frequently tinctured with some 
degree of gloom, would recur spontaneously to the mind in its 
best and happiest hours, and would insensibly blend themselves 
with all its purest and most refined enjoyments. 

In those parts of Europe where the prevailing opinions involve 
the greatest variety of errors and corruptions, it is, I believe, a 
common idea with many respectable and enlightened men, that in 
every country it is most prudent to conduct the religious instruc¬ 
tion of youth upon the plan which is prescribed by the national 
establishment, in order that the pupil, according to the vigour or 
feebleness of his mind, may either shake off, in future life, the 
prejudices of the nursery, or die in the popular persuasion. This 
idea, I own, appears to me to be equally ill-founded and dangerous. 
If religious opinions have, as will not be disputed, a powerful 
influence on the happiness and # on the conduct of .mankind, does 
not humanity require of us to rescue as many victims as possible 
from the hands of bigotry, and to save them from, the cruel alter¬ 
native of remaining under the gloom of a depressing superstition, 
or of being distracted by a perpetual conflict between the heart 
and the understanding ? [It is an enlightened education alone , that, 
in most countries of Europe, can save the young philosopher (1) from 
that anxiety and despondence which every man of sensibility, who, 
in his childhood, has imbibed the popular opinions, must necessa¬ 
rily experience when he first begins to examine their foundation \ 
and, what is of still greater importance, which can save him, 
during life, ( 2) from that occasional scepticism to which all men 
are liable, whose systems fluctuate with the inequalities of their 
spirits and the variations of the atmosphere.] 

XIV. I shall conclude this subject with remarking, that, although 
in all moral and religious systems there is a great mixture of im¬ 
portant truth, and although it is in consequence of this alliance 
that errors and absurdities are enabled to preserve their hold of the 
belief, yet [it is commonly found, that, in proportion as an established 
creed is complicated in its dogmas and in its ceremonies, and in pro¬ 
portion to. the number of accessory ideas which it has grafted upon 
the truth, the more difficult is it for those who have adopted it in 
childhood to emancipate themselves completely from its influence ; 
and in those cases in which they at last succeed, the greater is their 
danger of abandoning, along with their errors, all the truths which 
they had been taught to connect with them.] The Koman 


24 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. II. 


Catholic system is shaken off with much greater difficulty than 
those which are taught in the Reformed churches ; but when it 
loses its hold of the mind, it much more frequently prepares the 
way for unlimited scepticism. The causes of this I may, perhaps, 
have an opportunity of pointing out, in treating of the association 
of ideas. 

I have now finished all that I think necessary to offer at present 
on the application of the philosophy of mind to the subject of education. 
To some readers, I am afraid, that what I have advanced on the sub¬ 
ject will appear to border upon enthusiasm ; and I will not attempt 
to justify myself against the charge. I am well aware of the ten¬ 
dency which speculative men sometimes have to magnify the effects 
of education, as well as to entertain too sanguine views of the im¬ 
provement of the world; and I am ready to acknowledge, that 
there are instances of individuals whose vigour of mind is sufficient 
to overcome everything that is pernicious in their early habits : but 
I am fully persuaded that these instances are rare, and that by far 
the greater part of mankind continue, through life, to pursue the 
same track into which they have been thrown by the accidental 
circumstances of situation, instruction, and example. 


CHAPTER III. 

CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT. 

I. Two consequences flowing from the relation between the different 
branches of education and the philosophy of the human mind. —The 
remarks which have been hitherto made on the utility of the philo¬ 
sophy of the human mind are of a very general nature, and apply 
equally to all descriptions of men. Besides, however, these more 
obvious advantages of the study, there are others, which, though 
less striking and less extensive in their application, are nevertheless, 
to some particular classes of individuals, of the highest importance. 
Without pretending to exhaust the subject, I shall offer a few de¬ 
tached observations upon it in this section. - 

I already took notice, in general terms, of the common relation 
which all the different branches of our knowledge bear to the phi¬ 
losophy of the human mind. [In consequence of this relation, it 
not only forms (l) an interesting object of curiosity to literary men 
of every denomination, but, if successfully prosecuted, it cannot 
fail to (2) furnish useful lights for directing their inquiries, whatever 
the nature of the subjects may be which happen to engage their 
attention.] 

In order to be satisfied of the justness of this observation, it is 
sufficient to recollect, that to ^he philosophy of the mind are to be 
referred all our inquiries concerning the divisions and the classifi¬ 
cations of the objects of human knowledge ; and also all the various 



INTRODUCTION. 


25 

rules, both for the investigation and the communication of truth. 
These general views of science, and these general rules of method, 
ought to form the subjects of a rational and useful logic, a study, 
undoubtedly, in itself of the greatest importance and dignity, but 
in which less progress has hitherto been made than is commonly 
imagined. 

II. A chief Obstruction to the study of Physics amongst the ancient , 
and of Metaphysics amongst modern philosophers. —I shall endeavour 
to illustrate, very briefly, a few of the advantages which might be 
expected to result from such a system of logic, if properly executed. 

(1) And, in the first place, it is evident that it would be of the 
highest importance in all the sciences, (in some of them, indeed, 
much more than in others,) to exhibit a precise and steady idea of 
the objects which they present to our inquiry. [What was the 
principal circumstance which contributed to mislead the ancients 
in their physical researches ? Was it not their confused and waver¬ 
ing notions about the particular class of truths which it was their 
business to investigate ? It was owing to this that they were led to 
neglect the obvious phenomena and laws of moving bodies, and to 
indulge themselves in conjectures about the efficient causes of 
motion, and the nature of those minds by which they conceived the 
particles of matter to be animated, and that they so often blended 
the history of facts with their metaphysical speculations. In the 
present state of science, indeed, we are not liable to such mistakes 
in natural philosophy; but it would be difficult to mention any 
other branch of knowledge which is entirely exempted from them. 
In metaphysics, I might almost say, they are at the bottom of all 
our controversies. In the celebrated dispute, for example, which 
has been so long carried on, about the explanation given by the 
ideal theory of the phenomena of perception, the whole difficulty 
arose from this, that philosophers had no precise notion of the point 
they wished to ascertain; and now that the controversy has been 
brought to a conclusion, (as I think all men of candour must confess 
it to have been by Dr. Reid,) it will be found that his doctrine on 
the subject throws no light whatever on what was generally under¬ 
stood to be the great object of inquiry ; I mean on the mode of com¬ 
munication between the mind and the material world , and, in truth, 
amounts only to a precise description of the fact, stripped of all 
hypothesis, and stated in such a manner as to give us a distinct 
view of the insurmountable limits which nature has, in this instance, 
prescribed to our curiosity. The same observation may be made 
on the reasonings of this profound and original author, with respect 
to some metaphysical questions that had been started on the subject 
of vision; in particular, concerning the cause of our seeing objects 
single with two eyes, and our seeing objects erect by means of 
inverted images on the retina. 

[If we were to examine, in like manner, the present state of 
morals , of jurisprudence , of politics , and of philosophical criticism , I 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. III. 


26 


believe we should find that the principal circumstance which re¬ 
tards their progress, is the vague and indistinct idea which those 
who apply to the study of them have formed to themselves of the 
objects of their researches.] Were these objects once clearly de¬ 
fined, and the proper plan of inquiry for attaining them illustrated 
by a few unexceptionable models, writers of inferior genius would 
be enabled to employ their industry to much more advantage, and 
would be prevented from adding to that rubbish which, in conse¬ 
quence of the ill-directed ingenuity of our predecessors, obstructs 
our progress in the pursuit of truth. 

[As a philosophical system of logic would assist us in our particu¬ 
lar scientific investigations , (1) by keeping steadily in our view the 
attainable objects of human curiosity; so, (2) by exhibiting to us 
the relation in which they all stand to each other, and (3) the rela¬ 
tion which they all bear to what ought to be their common aim, 
the advancement of human happiness, (4) it would have a tendency 
to confine industry and genius to inquiries which are of real prac¬ 
tical utility; and would (5) communicate a dignity to the most subor¬ 
dinate pursuits, which are in any respect subservient to so important 
a purpose.] ©IT When our views are limited to one particular science, 
to which we have been led to devote ourselves by taste or by acci¬ 
dent, the course of our-studies resembles the progress of a traveller 
through an unexplored country; whose wanderings, from place to 
place, are determined merely by the impulse of occasional curiosity; 
and whose opportunities of information must necessarily be limited 
to the objects which accidentally present themselves to his notice. 
It is the philosophy of the mind alone, which, by furnishing us with 
a general map of the field of human knowledge, can enable us to 
proceed with steadiness, and in an useful direction ; and while it 
gratifies our curiosity, and animates our exertions, by exhibiting to 
us all the various bearings of our journey, can conduct us to those 
eminences from whence the eye may wander over the vast and 
unexplored regions of science. Lord Bacon was the first person 
who took this comprehensive view of the different departments of 
study: and who pointed out, to all the classes of literary men, the 
great end to which their labours should conspire; the multiplica¬ 
tion of the sources of human enjoyment, and the extension of man’s 
dominion over nature. Had this object been kept steadily in view 
by his followers, their discoveries, numerous and important as they 
have been, would have advanced with still greater rapidity, and 
would have had a much more extensive influence on the practical 
arts of life.* 

* Omnium autem gravissimus error in deviatione ab ultimo doctrinarum fine con¬ 
sists. Appetunt enim homines scientiam, alii ex insita curiositate et irrequieta; alii 
animi causa et delectation is, alii existimationis gratia ; alii contentionis ergo, atque ut 
in disserendo superiores sint; plerique propter lucrum et victum : paucissimi, ut donum 
rationis, divinitus datum, in usus humani generis impendant.—Hoc enim illud est, 
quod revera doctrinam atque artes condecoraret, et attolleret, si contemplatio, et actio' 
arctiore quam adliuc vinculo copularentur.—De Aug. Scient. lib. i. 

[But the greatest error of all the rest is the mistaking and misplacing of the last or 


INTRODUCTION. 


27 


[From such a system of logic, too, (6) important assistance might 
be expected, for reforming the established plan of public or acade¬ 
mical education.] It is melancholy to reflect on the manner in 
which this is carried on, in most, perhaps, I might say, in all the 
countries of Europe ; and that, in an age of comparative light and 
liberality, the intellectual and moral characters of youth should 
continue to be formed on a plan devised by men who were not only 
strangers to the business of the world, but who felt themselves in¬ 
terested in opposing the progress of useful knowledge. 

For accomplishing a reformation in the plan of* academical study, 
on rational and systematical principles, it is necessary, in the first 
place, to consider the relation in which the different branches of 
literature, and the different arts and sciences, stand to each other, 
and to the practical purposes of life : and secondly, to consider them 
in relation to the human mind, in order to determine the arrange¬ 
ment best fitted for unfolding and maturing its faculties. Many 
valuable hints towards such a work, may be collected from Lord 
Bacon’s writings. 

[(2) Another very important branch of a rational system of logic (as 
I had occasion already to observe, vide §. n. p. 25.) ought to be; to lay 
down the rules of investigation which it is proper to follow in the dif¬ 
ferent sciences.] In all of these, the faculties of the understanding are 
the instruments with which we operate; and without a previous know¬ 
ledge of their nature, it is impossible to employ them to the best ad¬ 
vantage. In every exercise of our reasoning and of our inventive 
powers, there are general laws which regulate the progress of the 
mind; and when once these laws are ascertained, they enable us to 
speculate and to invent, for the future, with more system, and with 
a greater certainty of success.—In the mechanical arts, it is well 
known, how much time and ingenuity are misapplied by those who 
acquire their practical skill by their own trials, undirected by the 
precepts or example of others. What we call the rules of an art, 
are merely a collection of general observations, suggested by long 
experience, with respect to the most compendious and effectual 
means of performing every different step of the processes which the 
art involves. In consequence of such rules, the artist is enabled to 
command the same success in all his operations, for which the un- 


farthest end of knowledge. For men have entered into a desire of learning and knowledge; 
sometimes upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite ; sometimes to entertain 
their minds with variety and delight; sometimes for ornament and reputation; and some¬ 
times to enable them to win the victory of wit and contradiction : and most times for 
lucre and profession, and seldom sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason 
to the benefit and use of men, [as if there were sought in knowledge, a couch whereupon 
to rest a searching and restless spirit, or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind 
to walk up and down with a fair prospect, or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise 


man’s estate.! But this —-- j , ,, 

temptation and action may be more nearly and strictly conjoined and united together 
than they have been.—Of the Advancement of Learning, book 1st.] 


28 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. III. 


skilled workman must trust to a happy combination of accidental cir¬ 
cumstances ; the misapplications, too, of the labour of one race are 
saved to the next; and the acquisition of practical address is facili¬ 
tated, by confining its exertions to one direction.—The analogy is 
perfect in those processes which are purely intellectual; and to 
regulate which, is the great object of logic. In the case.of indi¬ 
viduals, who have no other guide to direct them in their inquiries 
than their own natural sagacity, much time and ingenuity must 
inevitably be thrown away, in every exertion of the inventive 
powers. In proportion, however, to the degree of their experience 
and observation, the number of these misapplications will diminish, 
and the power of invention will be enabled to proceed with more 
certainty and steadiness to its object. The misfortune is, that as 
the aids which the understanding derives from experience, are 
seldom recorded in writing, or even described in words, every suc¬ 
ceeding inquirer finds himself, at the commencement of his philo¬ 
sophical pursuits, obliged to struggle with the same disadvantages 
which had retarded the progress of his predecessors. If the more 
important practical rules, which habits of investigation suggest to 
individuals, were diligently preserved, each generation would be 
placed in circumstances more favourable to invention than the pre¬ 
ceding ; and the progress of knowledge, instead of cramping original 
genius, would assist and direct its exertions. In the infancy of 
literature, indeed, its range may be more unbounded, and its acci¬ 
dental excursions may excite more astonishment, than in a cultivated 
and enlightened age ; but it is only in such an age, that inventive 
genius can be trained by rules founded on the experience of our 
predecessors, in such ^ manner as to insure the gradual and regular 
improvement of science. So just is the remark of Lord Bacon : 
“ Certo sciant homines, artes inveniendi solidas et veras adolescere 
et incrementa sumere cum ipsis inventis.”* 

The analogy between the mechanical arts , and the operations of 
scientific invention , might perhaps be carried further. In the former, 
we know how much the natural powers of man have been assisted 
by the use of tools and instruments. Is it not possible to devise, 
in like manner, certain aids to our intellectual faculties ? 

That such a query is not altogether chimerical, appears from the 
wonderful effects of algebra (which is precisely such an instrument of 
thought as I have been now alluding to) in facilitating the inquiries 
of modern mathematicians. Whether it might not be possible 
to realize a project which Leibnitz has somewhere mentioned, of 
introducing a similar contrivance into other branches of knowledge, 
I shall not take, upon me to determine; but that this idea has at 
least some plausibility, must, I think, be evident to those who have 
reflected on the nature of the general terms which abound more or 

Men may rest assured of this, that sound and genuine skill in invention, grows and 
flourishes with the things invented.—Bacon, of the Advancement of Learning 
book 5th, chap. iii. 


INTRODUCTION. 


29 


less in every cultivated language; and which may be considered as 
one species of instrumental aid, which art has discovered to our 
intellectual powers. [From the observations which I am afterwards 
to make, it will appear, that, without general terms , all our reasonings 
must necessarily have been limited to particulars; and, consequently, 
it is owing to the use of these, that the philosopher is enabled 
to speculate concerning classes of objects, with the same facility 
with which the savage or the peasant speculates concerning the indi¬ 
viduals of which they are composed.] The technical terms, in the 
different sciences, render the appropriate language of philosophy a 
still more convenient instrument of thought, than those languages 
which have originated from popular use; and in proportion as these 
technical terms improve in point of precision and comprehensiveness, 
they will contribute to render our intellectual progress more certain 
and more rapid. “ While engaged ” (says M. Lavoisier) “ in the 
composition of my Elements of Chemistry, I perceived better than 
I had ever done before, the truth of an observation of Condillac, 
that we think only through the medium of words; and that lan¬ 
guages are true analytical methods. Algebra, which of all our modes 
of expression, is the most simple, the most exact, and the best adapted 
to its purpose, is, at the same time, a language, and an analytical 
method. The art of reasoning is nothing more than a language 
well arranged.” The influence which these very enlightened and 
philosophical views have already had on the doctrines of chemistry, 
cannot fail to be known to most of my readers. 

The foregoing remarks, in so far as they relate to the possibility 
of assisting our reasoning and inventive powers, by new instrumental 
aids, may perhaps appear to be founded too much upon theory; but 
this objection cannot be made to the reasonings I have offered on 
the importance of the study of method. To the justness of these 
the whole history of science bears testimony; but more especially 
the histories of physics and of pure geometry; which afford so 
remarkable an illustration of the general doctrine, as can scarcely 
fail to be satisfactory, even to those who are the most disposed to 
doubt the efficacy of art in directing the exertions of genius. 

With respect to the former, it is sufficient to mention the 
wonderful effects which the writings of Lord Bacon have produced, 
in accelerating its progress. The philosophers who flourished 
before his time, were, undoubtedly, not inferior to their successors, 
either in genius or industry: but their plan of investigation was 
erroneous; and their labours have produced only a chaos of fictions 
and absurdities. [The illustrations which his works contain, of the 
method of induction , general as the terms are, in which they are 
expressed, have gradually turned the attention of the moderns to the 
rules of philosophising; and have led the way to those important 
and sublime discoveries in physics, which reflect so much honour 
on the present age.] \ 

The rules of philosophising, however, even in physics, have never 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. III. 


30 


yet been laid down with a sufficient degree of precision, minuteness, 
or method; nor have they ever been stated and illustrated in so 
clear and popular a manner, as to render them intelligible to the 
generality of readers. The truth, perhaps, is, that the greater part 
of physical inquirers have derived what knowledge of them they 
possess, rather from an attention to the excellent models of inves¬ 
tigation, which the writings of Newton exhibit, than from, any of 
the speculations of Lord Bacon, or his commentators: and, indeed, 
such is the incapacity of most people for abstract reasoning , that 
I am inclined to think, even if the rules of inquiry were delivered 
in a perfectly complete and unexceptionable form, it might still be 
expedient to teach them to the majority of students, rather by 
examples, than in the form of general principles. But it does not 
therefore follow, that an attempt to illustrate and to methodize these 
rules, would be useless; for it must be remembered, that, although 
an original and inventive genius, like that of Newton, be sufficient 
to establish a standard for the imitation of his age, yet that the 
genius of Newton himself was encouraged and led by the light of 
Bacon’s philosophy. 

III. [[The use which the ancient Greek geometers made of their 
analysis , affords an additional illustration of the utility of method in 
guiding scientific invention.] To facilitate the study of this species 
of investigation, they wrote no less than thirty-three preparatory 
books; and they considered an address, in the practice of it, 
(or, as Marinus calls it, a bvvapis avaXvTiKr]) as of much more 
value, than an extensive acquaintance with the principles of the 
science.* Indeed, it is well known, to every one who is at all 
conversant with geometrical investigations, that although it may 
be possible for a person, without the assistance of the method of 
analysis, to stumble accidentally on a solution, or on a demonstra¬ 
tion ; yet it is impossible for him to possess a just confidence in his 
own powers, or to carry on a regular plan of invention and dis¬ 
covery. It is well known, too, that an acquaintance with this 
method brings geometers much more nearly upon a level with each 
other, than they would be otherwise : not that it is possible, by any 
rules, to supersede, entirely, ingenuity and address; but, because, 
in consequence of the uniformity of the plan on which the method 
proceeds, experience communicates a certain dexterity in the use 
of it; which must in time give to a very ordinary degree of sagacity, 
a superiority, on the whole, to the greatest natural ingenuity, un¬ 
assisted by rule.f 

* Metin' 4<tti to Svyafuv avoCkvriK-qv KTr)<ra<rOai, rov Trokkas airoSeij-eis rwv eVt ficpovs 
*X* IV ' [Sweats avaXyTLKT]. Skill in analysis. Stewart mistranslates this here. The proper 
translation is, “ It is better to gain a skill in analysis, than to have many demonstra¬ 
tions of unconnected points.”—This passage is again quoted, p. 472, and translated 
properly.] 

'f' u Mathematica multi sciunt, mathesin pauci. Aliud est enim nosse propositiones 
aliquot, et nonnullas ex iis obvias elicere, casu potius quam certa aliqua discurrendi 
noma, aliud scientiae ipsius naturam ac indolem perspectam habere, in ejus se adyta 
penetrare, et ab universalibus instructum esse prseceptis, quibus theoremata ac pro- 


INTRODUCTION. 


3i 

To these observations, I believe, I may add, that after all that 
was done by the Greek philosophers to facilitate mathematical in¬ 
vention, many rules still remain to be suggested, which might be of 
important use, even in pure geometry. A variety of such occur 
to every experienced mathematician, in the course of his inquiries, 
although, perhaps, he may not be at the trouble to state them to 
himself in words; and it would plainly have saved him much 
expense of time and thought, beside enabling him to conduct his 
researches on a more regular plan, if he had been taught them sys¬ 
tematically at the commencement of his studies. The more varied, 
abstruse, and general investigations of the moderns, stand in need, 
in a much greater degree, of the guidance of philosophical princi¬ 
ples ; not only for enabling us to conduct, with skill, our particular 
researches, but for directing us to the different methods of reasoning, 
to which we ought to have recourse on different occasions. A 
collection of such rules would form, what might be called with pro¬ 
priety, the logic of mathematics; and would probably contribute 
greatly to the advancement of all those branches of knowledge, to 
which mathematical learning is subservient. 

IV. \_The observations which have been now made, on the import¬ 
ance of method in conducting physical and mathematical researches, 
particularly those which relate to the last of these subjects, will not 
apply literally to our inquiries in metaphysics , morals , or politics ; 
because, in these sciences, our reasonings always consist of a com¬ 
paratively small number of intermediate steps; and the obstacles 
which retard our progress, do not, as in mathematics, arise from the 
difficulty of finding media of comparison among our ideas.] Not 
that these obstacles are less real, or more easily surmounted: on 
the contrary, it seems to require a still rarer combination of talents 
to surmount them; for how small is the number of individuals, 
who are qualified to think justly on metaphysical, moral, or political 
subjects; in comparison of those, who may be trained by practice 

blemata innumera excogitandi, eademque demonstrandi facilitas comparetur. Ut enim 
pictorum vulgus prototypon ssepe ssepius exprimendo, quendam pingendi usum, nullam 
vero pictoriee artis quam optica suggerit scientiam adquirit, ita multi, lectis Euclidis et 
aliorum geometrarum libris, eorum imitatione fingere propositiones aliquas ac demon- 
strare solent, ipsam tamen secretissimam difficiliorum theorematum ac problematum 
solvendi methodum prorsus ignorant.”—Joannis de la Faille Theoremata de Centro 
Gravitatis, in prsefat. Antwerpise, 1632. 

[Many persons are acquainted with mathematical truths, few are masters of the 
science. For it is one thing to know some propositions and deduce from them others 
that are obvious, and this rather fortuitously than by any certain rule of research; and 
another to be thoroughly acquainted with the nature and character of the science, to 
penetrate into its recesses, and to be trained according to general precepts, by which a 
facility may be acquired of striking out innumerable problems and theorems, and like¬ 
wise of demonstrating them. For as painters of the commoner sort, by often copying 
an original, acquire a certain dexterity in painting, but no scientific mastery of the art, 
for this last is conferred by the science of optics ; so many from reading the works of 
Euclid, and of other geometricians, by imitating them, are accustomed to frame and 
demonstrate a certain class of propositions, and yet are altogether ignorant of the most 
elegant method of solving difficult theorems and problems.—John de la Faille s 
Theorems concerning the Centre of Gravity, preface. Antwerp, 1632.] 


32 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. III. 


to follow the longest processes of mathematical reasoning. [From 
what these obstacles arise, I shall not inquire particularly at present. 
Some of the more important of them may be referred (1) to the 
imperfections of language; (2) to the difficulty of annexing precise 
and steady ideas to our words; (8) to the difficulty, in some cases, 
of conceiving the subjects of our reasoning; and, (4) in others, of 
discovering, and keeping in view, all the various circumstances 
upon which our judgment ought to proceed ; and above all, (5) to 
the prejudices which early impressions and associations create, to 
warp our opinions.]—To illustrate these sources of error, in the 
different sciences which are liable to be affected by them, and to 
point out the most effectual means for guarding against them, 
would form another very interesting article, in a philosophical 
system of logic. 

The method of communicating to others the principles of the 
different sciences has been as much neglected by the writers on 
logic, as the rules of investigation and discovery; and yet, there 
is certainly no undertaking whatever, in which their assistance 
is more indispensably requisite. The first principles of all the 
sciences are intimately connected with the philosophy of the human 
mind; and it is the province of the logician, to state these in such 
a manner, as to lay a solid foundation for the superstructures which 
others are to rear.—It is in stating such principles, accordingly, 
that elementary writers are chiefly apt to fail. How unsatisfactory, 
for example, are the introductory chapters in most systems of 
natural philosophy ! not in consequence of any defect of physical 
or of mathematical knowledge in their authors, but in consequence 
of a want of attention to the laws of human thought, and to the 
general rules of just reasoning. The same remark may be extended 
to the form, in which the elementary principles of many of the 
other sciences are commonly exhibited ; and, if I am not mistaken, 
this [want of order, among the first ideas which they present to the 
mind, is a more powerful obstacle to the progress of knowledge, 
than is generally imagined.] 

V. I shall only observe farther , with respect to the utility of the 
philosophy of mind , that as there are some arts, in which we not 
only employ the intellectual faculties as instruments, but operate 
on the mind as a subject; so, to those individuals who aim at 
excellence in such pursuits, the studies I have now been recom¬ 
mending are, in a more peculiar manner, interesting and important. 

In poetry, in painting, in eloquence, and in all the other fine 
arts, our success depends on the skill with which we are able to 
adapt the efforts of our genius to the human frame; and it is only 
on a philosophical analysis of the mind, that a solid foundation can 
be laid for their farther improvement. Man, too, is the subject on 
which the practical moralist and the enlightened statesman have to 
operate. Of the former, it is the professed object to engage the 
attention of individuals to their own best interest: and to allure 


INTRODUCTION. 


S3 


them to virtue and happiness, by every consideration that can 
influence the understanding, the imagination, or the heart. To 
the latter is assigned the sublimer office of seconding the benevo¬ 
lent intentions of Providence in the administration of human affairs; 
to diffuse as widely and equally as possible, among his fellow-citi¬ 
zens, the advantages of the social union; and, by a careful study 
of the constitution of man, and of the circumstances in which he is 
placed, to modify the political order, in such a manner as may 
allow free scope and operation to those principles of intellectual and 
moral improvement, which nature has implanted in our species. 

In all these cases, I am very sensible, that the utility of syste¬ 
matical rules has been called in question by philosophers of note ; 
and that many plausible arguments in support of their opinion, 
may be derived from the small number of individuals who have 
been regularly trained to eminence in the, arts, in comparison of 
those who have been guided merely by untutored genius , and the 
example of their predecessors. I know, too, that it may be urged 
with truth, that rules have, in some cases, done more harm than 
good ; and have misled, instead of directing, the natural exertions 
of the mind. But, in all such instances, in which philosophical 
principles have failed in producing their intended effect, I will 
venture to assert, that they have done so, either in consequence of 
errors, which were accidentally blended wdth them, or, in conse¬ 
quence of their possessing only that slight and partial influence 
over the genius, which enabled them to derange its previously 
acquired habits ; without regulating its operations, upon a syste¬ 
matical plan, with steadiness and efficacy. In all the arts of life, 
whether trifling or important, there is a certain degree of skill, 
which may be attained by our untutored powers, aided by imita¬ 
tion ; and this skill, instead of being perfected by rules, may, by 
means of them, be diminished or destroyed, if these rules are par¬ 
tially and imperfectly apprehended ; or even if they are not so 
familiarized to the understanding, as to influence its exertions 
uniformly and habitually. In the case of a musical -performer , 

who has learnt his art merely by the ear, the first effects of syste¬ 
matical instruction are, I believe, always unfavourable. The effect 
is the same, of the rules of elocution , when first communicated to 
one who has attained, by his natural taste and good sense, a toler¬ 
able propriety in the art of reading. But it does not follow from 
this, that, in either of these arts, rules are useless. It only follows, 
that, in order to unite ease and grace with correctness, and to pre¬ 
serve the felicities of original genius, amidst those restraints which 
may*give them a useful direction, it is necessary that the acquisi¬ 
tions of education should, by long and early habits, be rendered, 
in some measure, a second nature. The same observations will be 
found to apply, with very slight alterations, to arts of more serious 
importance.—In the art of legislation, for example, there is a cer¬ 
tain degree of skill, which may be acquired merely from the routine 


Si 


INTRODUCTION. 


CHAP. III. 


of business; and when once a politician has been formed, in this 
manner, among tbe details of office, a partial study of general prin¬ 
ciples will be much more likely to lead him astray, than to enlighten 
his conduct. But there is nevertheless a science of legislation, 
which the details of office, and the intrigues of popular assemblies, 
will never communicate; a science, of which the principles must 
be sought for in the constitution of human nature, and in the 
general laws which regulate the course of human affairs; and 
which, if ever, in consequence of the progress of reason, philosophy 
should be enabled to assume that ascendant in the government of 
the world, which has hitherto been maintained by accident, com¬ 
bined with the passions and caprices of a few leading individuals, 
may, perhaps, produce more perfect and happy forms of society, 
than have yet been realized in the history of mankind. 

VI. I have thus endeavoured to point out, and illustrate, a few 
of the most important purposes to which the philosophy of the human 
mind is subservient. It will not, however, I flatter myself, be sup¬ 
posed by any of my readers, that I mean to attempt a systematical 
work, on all, or any of the subjects I have now mentioned; the 
most limited of which, would furnish matter for many volumes. 
What I have aimed at, has been, to give, in the first place, as dis¬ 
tinct and complete an analysis as I could, of the principles, both 
intellectual and active, of our nature; and, in the second place, to 
illustrate, as I proceed, the application of these general laws of the 
human constitution, to the different classes of phenomena which 
result from them. In the selection of these phenomena, although 
I have sometimes been guided chiefly by the curiosity of the mo¬ 
ment, or the accidental course of my "own studies, yet* I have had 
it in view, to vary, as far as possible, the nature of my speculations, 
in order to show how numerous and different the applications are, 
of which this philosophy is susceptible. It will not, therefore, I 
hope, be objected to me, that I have been guilty of a blamable 
violation of unity in the plan of my work, till it be considered how 
far such a violation was useful for accomplishing the purposes for 
which I write. One species of unity, I am willing to believe, an 
attentive reader will be able to trace in it: I mean, that uniformity 
of thought and design, “ which ” (as Butler well remarks,) “ we 
may always expect to meet with in the compositions of the same 
author, when he writes with simplicity, and in earnest.” 


» 


PHILOSOPHY 


OF 

THE HUMAN MIND. 

PART I. 


CHAPTER I. 

OF THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 

I. Of the Theories which have been formed by Philosophers , to 
explain the manner in which the Mind perceives external Objects .— 
Among the various phenomena which the human mind presents to 
our view, there is none more calculated to excite our curiosity and 
our wonder, than the communication which is carried on between 
the sentient, thinking , and active principle within us, and the material 
objects with which we are surrounded. How little soever the bulk 
of mankind may be disposed to attend to such inquiries, there is 
scarcely a person to' be found, who has not occasionally turned his 
thoughts to that mysterious influence, which the will possesses over 
the members of the body; and to those powers of perception which 
seem to inform us, by a sort of inspiration, of the various changes 
which take place in the external universe. Of those who receive 
the advantages of a liberal education, there are perhaps few, who 
pass the period of childhood, without feeling their curiosity excited 
by this incomprehensible communication between mind and matter. 
For my own part, at least, I cannot recollect the date of my earliest 
speculations on the subject. 

It is to the phenomena of perception alone, that I am to confine 
myself in the following essay; and even with respect to these, all 
that I propose is, to offer a few general remarks on such of the 
common mistakes concerning them, as may be most likely to mislead 
us in our future inquiries. Such of my readers as wish to consider 
them more in detail, will find ample satisfaction in the writings of 
Dr. Reid. 

In considering the phenomena of perception, it is natural to 
suppose, that the attention of philosophers would he directed, in 
the first instance, to the sense of seeing. The variety of information 




PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


36 


and of enjoyment we receive by it; the rapidity with which this 
information and enjoyment are conveyed to us; and above all, the 
intercourse it enables us to maintain with the more distant part of 
the universe, cannot fail to give it, even in the apprehension of the 
most careless observer, a pre-eminence over all our other perceptive 
faculties. [Hence it is, that the various theories, which have been 
formed to explain the operations of our senses, have a more imme¬ 
diate reference to that of seeing; and that the greater part of the 
metaphysical language, concerning perception in general, appears 
evidently, from its etymology, to have been suggested by the phe¬ 
nomena of vision.] Even when applied to this sense, indeed, it can 
at most amuse the fancy, without conveying any precise knowledge; 
but, when applied to the other senses, it is altogether absurd and 
unintelligible. 

It would be tedious and useless, to consider particularly, the 
different hypotheses which have been advanced upon this subject. 
To all of them, I apprehend, the two following remarks will be 
found applicable : First , that, in the formation of them, their authors 
have been influenced by some general maxims of philosophising, 
borrowed from physics ; and secondly , that they have been influenced 
by an indistinct, but deep-rooted, conviction of the immateriality of 
the soul; which although not precise enough to point out to them 
the absurdity of attempting to illustrate its operations by the analogy 
of matter, was yet sufficiently strong, to induce them to keep the 
absurdity of their theories as far as possible out of view, by allusions 
to those physical facts, in which the distinctive properties of matter 
are the least grossly and palpably exposed to our observation. To 
the former of these circumstances, is to be ascribed, the general 
principle, upon which all the known theories of perception proceed ; 
that, in order to explain the intercourse between the mind and distant 
objects , it is necessary to suppose the existence of something interme¬ 
diate , by which its perceptions are produced; to the latter, the 
various metaphorical expressions of ideas, species, forms, shadows, 
phantasms, images; which, while they amused the fancy with some 
remote analogies to the objects of our senses, did not directly 
revolt our reason, by presenting to us any of the tangible qualities 
of body. 

It was the doctrine of Aristotle, (says Dr. Reid,) “ that as our 
senses cannot receive external material objects themselves, they 
receive their species ; that is, their images of forms, without the 
matter; as wax receives the form of the seal, without any of the 
matter of it. These images or forms, impressed upon the senses, 
are called sensible species ; and are the objects only of the sensitive 
part of the mind: but by various, internal powers, they are retained, 
refined, and spiritualized, so as to become objects of memory and 
imagination; and, at last, of pure intellection. When they are 
objects of memory and of imagination, they get the name of phan¬ 
tasms. When, by farther refinement, and being stripped of their 
particularities, they become objects of science, they are called 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 37 

intelligible species : so that every immediate object, whether of sense, 
of memory, of imagination, or of reasoning, must be some phantasm, 
or species, in the mind itself. 

“ The followers of Aristotle, especially the schoolmen, made great 
additions to this theory; which the author himself mentions very 
briefly, and with an appearance of reserve. They entered into 
large disquisitions with regard to the sensible species, what kind of 
things they are; how they are sent forth by the object, and enter 
by the organs of the senses; how they are preserved, and refined 
by various agents, called internal senses, concerning the number 
and offices of which they had many controversies.” (Essay I. on 
the Intellectual Powers of Man, chap. i. §. 24 —also Essay II. 
chap. viii. §. 1 & 3. Edit. 1843.) 

The Platonists, too, although they denied the great doctrine of 
the Peripatetics, that all the objects of human understanding enter 
at first by the senses ; and maintained, that there exist eternal and 
immutable ideas, which were prior to the objects of sense, and 
about which all science was employed; yet appear to have agreed 
with them in their notions concerning the mode in which external 
objects are perceived. This, Dr. Reid infers, partly from the 
silence of Aristotle about any difference between himself and his 
master upon this point; and partly from a passage in the seventh 
book of Plato’s Republic; “ in which he compares the process of 
the mind in perception, to that of a person in a deep and dark cave, 
who sees not external objects themselves, but only their shadows.” 
(Essay II. chap. iv. §. 10., and chap. vii. §. 1 & 2.) 

“ Two thousand years after Plato,” (continues Dr. Reid,) “ Mr. 
Locke, who studied the operations of the human mind so much, 
and with so great success, represents our manner of perceiving 
external objects, by a similitude very much resembling that of the 
cave. ‘ Methinks,’ says he, ‘the understanding is not much unlike 
a closet, wholly shut from light, with only some little opening left, 
to let in external visible resemblances or ideas of things without. 
Would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay there, 
and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very much 
resemble the understanding of a man, in reference to all objects of 
sight, and the ideas of them.’ (Locke on Human Understanding, 
book ii. chap. ii. §. 17.) 

“ Plato’s subterranean cave, and Mr. Locke’s dark closet, may be 
applied with ease to all the systems of perceptions that have been 
invented: for they all suppose, that we perceive not external 
objects immediately; and that the immediate objects of perception, 
are only certain shadows of the external objects. Those shadows, 
or images, which we immediately perceive, were by the ancients 
called species , forms , phantasms. Since the time of Des Cartes, 
they have commonly been called ideas; (note B.) and by Mr. 
Hume, impressions. But all philosophers, from Plato to Mr.. Hume, 
agree in this, that we do not perceive external objects, immediately; 
and that the immediate object of perception must be some image 


38 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


present to the mind.” On the whole, Dr. Reid remarks, “ that in 
their sentiments concerning perception, there appears a uniformity, 
which rarely occurs upon subjects of so abstruse a nature.” (Reid, 
Essay n. chap. yii. §. 3.) 

The very short and imperfect view we have now taken of the 
common theories of perception, is almost sufficient, without any 
commentary, to establish the truth of the two general observations 
formerly made ; for [they all evidently (1) proceed on a supposition, 
suggested by the phenomena of physics, that there must of necessity 
exist some medium of communication between the objects of perception 
and the percipient mind; and they all (2) indicate a secret conviction 
in their authors, of the essential distinction between mind and matter ;] 
which, although not rendered, by reflection, sufficiently precise 
and satisfactory, to show them the absurdity of attempting to ex¬ 
plain the mode of their communication; had yet such a degree of 
influence on their speculations, as to induce them to exhibit their 
supposed medium under as mysterious and ambiguous a form as 
possible, in order that it might remain doubtful, to which of the 
two predicaments, of body or mind, they meant that it should be 
referred. By refining away the grosser qualities of matter; and 
by allusions to some of the most aerial and magical appearances it 
assumes, they endeavoured, as it were, to spiritualize the nature of 
their medium; while, at the same time, all their language con¬ 
cerning it, implied such a reference to matter, as was necessary for 
furnishing a plausible foundation, for applying to it the received 
maxims of natural philosophy. 

Another observation, too, which was formerly hinted at, is con¬ 
firmed by the same historical review; [that, (3) in the order of 
inquiry, the phenomena of vision had first engaged the attention of 
philosophers, and had suggested to them the greater part of their 
language , with respect to perception in general; and that, in conse¬ 
quence of this circumstance, the common modes of expression on 
the subject, unphilosophical and fanciful at best, even when applied 
to the sense of seeing, are, in the case of all the other senses, 
obviously unintelligible and self-contradictory.] As to objects of 
sight, says Dr. Reid, I understand what is meant by an image of 
their figure in the brain: but how shall we conceive an image of 
their colour, where there is absolute darkness? And, as to all 
other objects of sense, except figure and colour, I am unable to 
conceive what is meant by an image of them. Let any man say, 
what he means by an image of heat and cold, an image of hardness" 
or softness, an image of sound or smell, or taste. The word image, 
when applied to these objects of sense, has absolutely no meaning 
This palpable imperfection in the ideal theory, has plainly taken 
rise from the natural order in which the phenomena of perception 
present themselves to the curiosity. 

The mistakes, which have been so long current in the world 
about this pait of the human constitution, will, I hope, justify me 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 89 

for prosecuting the subject a little farther; in particular, for illus¬ 
trating, at some length, the first of the two (three) general remarks 
already referred to. This speculation I enter upon the more will¬ 
ingly? that it affords me an opportunity of stating some important 
principles with respect to the object, and the limits, of philosophical 
inquiry; to which I shall frequently have occasion to refer, in the 
course of the following disquisitions. 

II. Of certain natural Prejudices , ivhich seem to have given rise to 
the common Theories of Perception .—It seems now to be pretty 
generally agreed among philosophers, that there is no instance in 
which we are able to perceive a necessary connexion between two 
successive events; or to comprehend in what manner the one-pro- 
ceeds from the other, as its cause. From experience indeed we 
learn, that there are many events, which are constantly conjoined, 
so that the one invariably follows the other : but it is possible, for 
any thing we know to the contrary, that this connexion, though 
a constant one, as far as our observation has reached, may not be a 
necessary connexion ; nay, it is possible, that there may be no neces¬ 
sary connexions among any of the phenomena we see : and, if there 
are any such connexions existing, we may rest assured that we shall 
never be able to discover them. (See note c.) 

I shall endeavour to show, in another part of this work, that the 
doctrine I have now stated does not lead to these sceptical conclu¬ 
sions, concerning the existence of a First Cause, which an author 
of great ingenuity has attempted to deduce from it. At present, it 
is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that the word cause is used, 
both by philosophers and the vulgar, in two senses, which are widely 
different. When it is said that every change in nature indicates the 
operation of a cause, the word cause expresses something which is 
supposed to be necessarily connected with the change; and without 
which it could not have happened. This may be called the meta¬ 
physical meaning of the word; and such causes may be called 
metaphysical or efficient causes. In natural philosophy, however, 
when we speak of one thing being the cause of another, all that we 
mean is, that the two are constantly conjoined; so that when we 
see the one, we may expect the other. These conjunctions we learn 
from experience alone ; and without an acquaintance with them, we 
could not accommodate our conduct to the established course of 
nature. The causes which are the objects of our investigation in 
natural philosophy, may, for the sake of distinction, be called phy¬ 
sical causes. 

I am very ready to acknowledge that this doctrine, concerning 
the object of natural philosophy, is not altogether agreeable to 
popular prejudices. When a man, unaccustomed to metaphysical 
speculations, is told, for the first time, that the science of physics 
gives us no information concerning the efficient causes of the phe¬ 
nomena about which it is employed, he feels some degree of surprise 
and mortification. The natural bias of the mind is surely to con- 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


40 


ceive physical events as somehow linked together; and material 
substances, as possessed of certain powers and virtues, which fit 
them to produce particular effects. That we have no reason to 
believe this to be the case, has been shown in a very particular 
manner by Mr. Hume, and by other writers; and must, indeed, 
appear evident to every person, on a moment’s reflection. It is a 
curious question, What gives rise to the prejudice ? 

In stating the argument for the existence of the Deity, several 
modern philosophers have been at pains to illustrate that law of our 
nature, which leads us to refer every change we perceive in the uni¬ 
verse, to the operation of an efficient cause.* This reference is.not 
the result of reasoning, but necessarily accompanies the perception, 
so as to render it impossible for us to see the change, without feel¬ 
ing a conviction of the operation of some cause by which it was 
produced; much in the same manner in which we find it to be 
impossible to conceive a sensation, without being impressed with a 
belief of the existence of a sentient being. Hence, I apprehend, 
it is that when we see two events constantly conjoined, we are led 
to associate the idea of causation or efficiency, with the former, and 
to refer to it that power or energy by which the change was pro¬ 
duced ; in consequence of which association, we come to consider 
philosophy as the knowledge of efficient causes; and lose sight of 
the operation of mind, in producing the phenomena of nature.— 
It is by an association somewhat similar, that we connect our sen¬ 
sations of colour, with the primary qualities of body. A moment’s 
reflection must satisfy any one that the sensation of colour can 
only reside in a mind ; and yet our natural bias is surely to connect 
colour with extension and figure, and to conceive white, blue , and 
yellow , as something spread over the surfaces of bodies. In the 
same way we are led to associate with inanimate matter, the ideas 
of power , force, energy , and causation ; which are all attributes of 
mind, and can exist in a mind only. 

The bias of our nature is strengthened by another association.— 
[Our language, with respect to cause and effect, is borrowed by an¬ 
alogy from material objects. Some of these we see scattered about 
us, without any connexion between them; so that one of them may 
be removed from its place, without disturbing the rest. We can, 
however, by means of some material vinculum , connect two or more 
objects together; so that whenever the one is moved, the others 
shall follow. In like manner, we see some events, which occasion¬ 
ally follow one another, and which are occasionally disjoined; we 
see others, where the succession is constant and invariable. The 
former we conceive to be analogous to objects which are loose, and 
unconnected with each other, and whose contiguity in place, is 
owing merely to accidental position; the others, to objects which 
are tied together by a material vinculum. Hence we transfer to 
such events, the same language which we apply to connected 
* See Dr. Reid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, passim. 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 41 

objects. We speak of a connexion between two events, and of a 
chain of causes and effects.] (See note d.) 

[That this language is merely analogical, and that we know nothing 
of physical events, but the laws which regulate their succession, 
must, I think, appear very obvious to every person who takes the 
trouble to reflect on the subject; and yet it is certain, that it has 
misled the greater part of philosophers; and has had a surprising 
influence on the systems, which they have formed in very different 
departments of science.] 

A few remarks on some of the mistaken conclusions, to which the 
vulgar notions concerning the connexions among physical events 
have given rise, in natural philosophy, will illustrate clearly the 
origin of the common theories of perception; and will, at the same 
time, satisfy the reader, with respect to the train of thought , which 
suggested the foregoing observations. 

The maxim, that nothing can act but where it is and when it is, 
has always been admitted, with respect to metaphysical or efficient 
causes. “ Whatever objects,” says Mr. Hume, “ are considered as 
causes or effects, are contiguous; and nothing can operate in a time 
or place, which is ever so little removed from those of its existence.” 
“ We may therefore,” he adds, “ consider the relation of contiguity 
as essential to that of causation.” But although this maxim should 
be admitted, with respect to causes which are efficient, and which, 
as such, are necessarily connected with their effects, there is surely 
no good reason for extending it to physical causes, of which we know 
nothing,''but that they are the constant forerunners and signs of 
certain natural events. It may, indeed, be improper, according to 
this doctrine, to retain the expressions, cause and effect, in natural 
philosophy; but, as long as the present language upon the subject 
continues in use, the propriety of its application, in any particular 
instance, does not depend on the contiguity of the two events in 
place or time, but solely on this question, Whether the one event be 
the constant and invariable forerunner of the other, so that it may 
be considered as its infallible sign ? Notwithstanding, however, the 
evidence of this conclusion, philosophers have in general proceeded 
upon a contrary supposition; and have discovered an unwillingness, 
even in physics, to call one event the cause of another, if the smallest 
interval of space or time existed between them. lUP” In the case of 
motion, communicated by impulse, they have no scruple to call the 
impulse the cause of the motion; but they will not admit that one 
body can be the cause of motion in another, placed at a distance 
from it, unless a connexion is carried on between them, by means 
of some intervening medium. 

It is unnecessary for me, after what has already been said, to 
employ any arguments to prove, that the communication of motion 
by impulse, is as unaccountable as any other phenomenon in 
nature. Those philosophers who have attended at all to the subject, 
even they who have been the least sceptical with respect to cause 
and effect, and who have admitted a necessary connexion among 


42 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


physical events, have been forced to acknowledge, that they could 
not discover any necessary connexion betiveen impulse and motion .— 
Hence, some of them have been led to conclude, that the impulse 
only rouses the activity of the body, and that the subsequent motion 
is the effect of this activity, constantly exerted. “ Motion,” says 
one writer, “ is action ; and a continued motion implies a continued 
action.” “ The impulse is only the cause of the beginning of the 
motion: its continuance must be the effect of some other cause, 
which continues to act as long as the body continues to move.”— 
The attempt which another writer of great learning has made, to 
revive the ancient theory of mind, has arisen from a similar view of 
the subject before us. He could discover no necessary connexion 
between impulse and motion; and concluded, that the impulse was 
only the occasion of the motion, the beginning and continuance of 
which he ascribed to the continued agency of the mind with which 
the body is animated. 

Although, however, it be obvious, on a moment’s consideration, 
that we are as ignorant of the connexion between impulse and 
motion, as of the connexion between fire and any of the effects we 
see it produce, philosophers, in every age, seem to have considered 
the production of motion by impulse, as almost the only physical 
fact which stood in need of no explanation. When we see one 
body attract another at a distance, our curiosity is roused, and we 
inquire how the connexion is carried on between them. But when 
we see a body begin to move in consequence of an impulse which 
another has given it, we inquire no farther: on the contrary, we 
think a fact sufficiently accounted for, if it can be shown to be a 
case of impulse. This distinction, between motion produced by 
impulse and the other phenomena of nature, we are led in a great 
measure to make, by confounding together efficient and physical 
cajises; and by applying to the latter, maxims which have properly 
a reference only to the former.—Another circumstance, likewise, 
has probably considerable influence : that, as it is by means of 
impulse alone, that we ourselves have a power of moving external 
objects ; this fact is more familiar to us from our infancy than any 
other; and strikes us as a fact which is necessary, and which could 
not have happened otherwise. Some writers have even gone so far 
as to pretend that, although the experiment had never been made, 
the communication of motion by impulse, might have been predicted 
by reasoning a priori .—See an answer to Lord Kaimes’s Essay on 
Motion ; by John Stewart, M.D. 

From the following passage, in one of Sir Isaac Newton’s letters 
to Dr. Bentley, it appears, that he supposed the communication of 
motion by impulse, to be a phenomenon much more explicable, 
than that a connexion should subsist between two bodies placed at 
a distance from each other, without any intervening medium. “ It 
is inconceivable,” says he, “ that inanimate brute matter should, 
without the mediation of something else which is not material, 
operate upon, and affect other matter, without mutual contact; as 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 43 

it must do, if gravitation, in the sense of Epicurus, be essential and 
inherent in it. And this is one reason why I desired that you would 
not ascribe innate gravity to me. That gravity should be innate, 
inherent, and essential to matter, so that one body may act on 
another, through a vacuum, without the mediation of any thing else, 
by and through which their action and force may be conveyed from 
one to another, is to me so great an absurdity, that I believe no 
man who has, in philosophical matters, a competent faculty of 
thinking, can ever fall into it.” 

With this passage I so far agree, as to allow that it is impossible 
to conceive, in what manner one body acts on another at a distance, 
through a vacuum. But I cannot admit that it removes the diffi¬ 
culty to suppose, that the two bodies are in actual contact. That 
one body may be the efficient cause of the motion of another body 
placed at a distance from it, I do by no means assert; but only, that 
we have as good reason to believe that this may be possible, as to 
believe that any one natural event is the efficient cause of another. 

I have been led into this very long disquisition, concerning 
efficient and physical causes, in order to point out the origin of the 
common theories of perception; all of which appear to me, to have 
taken rise from the same prejudice , which I have already remarked 
to have had so extensive an influence upon the speculations of 
natural philosophers. 

That in the case of the perception of distant objects, we are 
naturally inclined to suspect, either something to be emitted from 
the object to the organ of sense, or some medium to intervene 
between the object and organ, by means of which the former may 
communicate an impulse to the latter; appears from the common 
modes of expression on the subject, which are to be found in all 
languages. In our own, for example, we frequently hear the vulgar 
speak, of light striking the eye; not in consequence of any philoso¬ 
phical theory they have been taught, but of their own crude and 
undirected speculations. Perhaps there are few men among those 
who have attended at all to the history of their own thoughts, who 
will not recollect the influence of these ideas, at a period of life 
long prior to the date of their philosophical studies. Nothing, 
indeed, can be conceived more simple and natural than their origin. 
When an object is placed in a certain situation with respect to a 
particular organ of the body, a perception arises in the mind: when 
the object is removed, the perception ceases. * Hence we are led 

* Turn porro varios rerum sentimus odores, 

Nec tamen ad nareis venienteis cernimus unquam : 

Nec calidos sestus tuimur, nec frigora quimus 
Usurpare oculis, nec voces cernere suemus ; 

Quse tamen omnia corporea constare necesse est 
Natura ; quoniam sensus impellere possunt. 

Lucret. lib. i. p. 299. 

[“ Next what keen eye e’er followed in their course 
The light-wing’d odours or develop’d clear 
The mystic forms of cold or heat intense, 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


44 


to apprehend some connexion between the object and the percep¬ 
tion; and as we are accustomed to believe, that matter produces its 
effects by impulse, we conclude that there must be some material 
medium intervening between the object and organ, by means of 
which the impulse is communicated from the one to the other.— 
That this is really the case, I do not mean to dispute. I think, 
however, it is evident, that [the existence of such a medium does not 
in any case appear a priori: and yet the natural prejudices of men 
have given rise to a universal belief of it, long before they were 
able to produce any good arguments in support of their opinion.] 
Nor is it only to account for the connexion between the object 
and the organ of sense, (hat philosophers have had recourse to the 
theory of impulse. They have imagined that the impression on 
the organ of sense is communicated to the mind, in a similar manner. 
As one body produces a change in the state of another by impulse, 
so it has been supposed, that the external object produces percep¬ 
tion, (which is a change in the state of the mind,) first, by some 
material impression made on the organ of sense ; and, secondly, by 
some material impression communicated from the organ to the mind 
along the nerves and brain. These suppositions, indeed, as I had 
occasion already to hint, were, in the ancient theories of perception, 
rather implied than expressed; but by modern philosophers, they 
have been stated in the form of explicit propositions. “ As to the 
manner,” says Mr. Locke, “ in which bodies produce ideas in us, 
it is manifestly by impulse, the only way which we can conceive 
bodies operate in.”—Essay on Human Understanding, book ii. 
chap. viii. §. 2. And Sir Isaac Newton, although he does not speak 
of an impulse made on the mind, plainly proceeded on the principle 
that, as matter can only move matter by impulse, so no connexion 
could be carried on between matter and mind, unless the mind were 
present (as he expresses it) to the matter from which the last im¬ 
pression is communicated. “ Is not,” (says he) “ the sensorium of 
animals, the place where the sentient substance is present? and to 
which the sensible species of things are brought, through the nerves 
and brain, that there they may be perceived by the mind present 
in that place?” Dr. Clark has expressed the same idea still more 
confidently, in the following passage of one of his letters to Leibnitz. 
“ Without being present* to the images of the things perceived, the 


Or sound through ether fleeting 1 yet tho’ far 
From human sight removed, by all confess’d, 

Alike material, since alike the sense. 

They touch impulsive.” Good.] 

* This phrase of “the soul being •present to the images of external objects/’ has 
been used by many philosophers, since the time of Des Cartes ; evidently from a 
desire to avoid the absurdity of supposing, that images of extension and figure can 
exist in an unextended mind. 

“Quferis,” (says Des Cartes himself, in replying to the objections of one of his 
antagonists,) “ quomodo existimem in me subjecto inextenso recipi posse speciem, 
ideamve corporis quod extensum est. Respondeo nullam speciem corpoream in mente 
recipi, sed puram intellectionem tam rei corporeee quam incorporete fieri absque ulla 


THE POWERS OP EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 


45 


soul could not possibly perceive them. A living substance can only 
there perceive, where it is present. Nothing can any more act, or 
be.acted upon, lohcre it is not present, than it can when it is not.” 
“ How body acts upon mind, or mind upon body,” (says Dr. 
Porterfield*) “ I know not; but this I am very certain of, that 
nothing can act, or be acted upon, where it is not; and therefore 
our mind can never perceive any thing but its own proper modi¬ 
fications, and the various states of the sensorium, to which it is pre¬ 
sent ; so that it is not the external sun and moon, which are in the 
heavens, which our mind perceives, but only their image or repre¬ 
sentation, impressed upon the sensorium. How the soul of a seeing 
man sees these images, or how it receives those ideas, from such 
agitations in the sensorium,I know not; but I am sure it can never 
perceive the external bodies themselves, to which it is not present.” 

f The same train of thinking, which had led these philosophers 
to suppose that external objects are perceived by means of species 
proceeding from the object to the mind, or by means of some mate¬ 
rial impression made on the mind by the brain, has suggested to a 
late writer a very different theory: that the mind, when it perceives 
an external object, quits the body, and is present to the object of 
perception. “ The mind ” (says the learned author of Ancient 
Metaphysics), “ is not where the body is, when it perceives what 
is distant from the body, either in time or place, because nothing 
can act, but when, and where, it is. Now, the mind acts when it 
perceives. The mind, therefore, of every animal who has memory 
or imagination, acts, and by consequence exists, when and where 
the body is not; for it perceives objects distant from the body both 
in time and place.”—Ant. Met. vol. ii. p. 306. Indeed, if we take for 
granted, that in perception the mind acts upon the object, or the 
object upon the mind, and, at the same time, admit the truth of the 
maxim, that “ nothing can act but where it is,” we must of neces¬ 
sity conclude, either that objects are perceived in a way similar 

specie corporea ; ad imaginationem vero, quse non nisi de rebus corporeis esse potest, 
opus quidem esse specie quse sit verura corpus, et ad quam mens se applicet, sed non 
quse in mente recipiatur.” [You ask how I could suppose that nay intellect, which is 
unextended, could receive a representation or idea of body which is extended : I answer 
that no corporeal representation is received into my mind, but that a pure understand¬ 
ing of corporeal and incorporeal being is produced, without any corporeal representa¬ 
tion; but for imagination, which can only take place concerning corporeal things, there 
is need of a representation being actually body, and to which the mind might apply 
itself, but not which could be received into the mind.] It appears, therefore, that this 
philosopher supposed his images or ideas to exist in the brain , and not in the mind. 
Mr. Locke’s expressions sometimes imply the one supposition, and sometimes the other. 

* In his Treatise on the Eye. 

f “ The slightest philosophy ” (says Mr. Hume) “ teaches us, that nothing can ever 
be present to the mind, but an image, or perception ; and that the senses are only the 
inlets, through which these images are conveyed ; without being able to produce any 
immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. The table, which we see, 
seems to diminish, as we remove farther from it: but the real table, which exists inde¬ 
pendent of us, suffers no alteration : it was, therefore, nothing but its image which was 
present to the mind. These ” (he adds) “ are the obvious dictates of reason. —Essay 
on the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy. 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


46 


to what is supposed in the ideal theory, or that, in every act of 
perception, the soul quits the body, and is present to the object 
perceived. And accordingly, this alternative is expressly stated 
by Malebranche; who differs, however, from the writer last quoted, 
in the choice which he makes of his hypothesis ; and even rests his 
proof of its truth on the improbability of the other opinion. “ I 
suppose,” says he, “ that every one will grant, that we perceive 
not external objects immediately, and of themselves. We see the 
sun, the stars, and an infinity of objects without us ; and it is not 
at all likely that, upon such occasions, the soul sallies out of the 
body in order to be present to the objects perceived. She sees 
them not therefore by themselves; and the immediate object of 
the mind is not the thing perceived, but something which is inti¬ 
mately united to the soul; and it is that which I call an idea: so 
that by the word idea, I understand nothing else here but that 
which is nearest to the mind when we perceive any object. It 
ought to be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind’s per¬ 
ceiving any object, it is absolutely necessary that the idea of that 
object be actually present to it. Of this it is not possible to doubt. 
The things which the soul perceives, are of two kinds. They are 
either in the soul, or they are without the soul. Those that are in 
the soul, are its own thoughts; that is to say, all its different modi¬ 
fications. The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving these things. 
But with regard to things without the soul, we cannot perceive 
them but by means of ideas.” 

To these quotations, I shall add another, which contains the 
opinion of Buffon upon the subject. As I do not understand it so 
completely, as to be able to translate it in a manner intelligible to 
myself, I shall transcribe it in the words of the author. 

“ L’ame s’unit intimement a tel objet qu’il lui plait; la distance, 
la grandeur, la figure, rien ne peut nuire a cette union lorsque 
l’ame la veut: elle se fait, et se fait en un instant .... la volont£ 
n’est elle done qu’un mouvement corporel, et la contemplation un 
simple attouchement ? Comment cet attouchement pourroit-il se 
faire sur un objet eloigne, sur un sujet abstrait? Comment pour¬ 
roit-il s’operer en un instant indivisible? A-t-on jamais con^u du 
mouvement, sans qu’il y eut de l’espace et du temps ? La volonte, 
si e’est un mouvement, n’est done pas un mouvement materiel; et 
si l’union de l’ame a son objet est un attouchement, un contact, cet 
attouchement ne se fait-il pas au loin ? ce contact n’est il pas une 
penetration?”* 

* The mind unites itself intimately to any object as it pleases ; distance, size, figure, 
nothing can interfere with that union when the mind wills it. It takes place, and 
in an instant. Is not will then a corporeal motion, and contemplation merely contact ? 
How can this contact take place with regard to a distant object, or an abstract subject! 
How can it act in an indivisible moment ? Can we conceive motion, without time or 
space ? If the will be motion, is it not material motion ; and if the union of the mind 
with its object be touch or contact, must not that contact take place at a distance ? Is 
not that contact penetration ? 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 47 

All these theories appear to me to have taken their ris e, first, 
from an inattention to the proper object of philosophy, and an 
application of the same general maxims to physical and to efficient 
causes, and, secondly , from an apprehension, that we understand 
the connexion between impulse and motion, better than any other 
physical fact. From the detail which I have given, it appears how 
extensive an influence this prejudice has had on the inquiries both 
of natural philosophers and of metaphysicians. 

In the foregoing reasonings, I have taken for granted, that motion 
may be produced by impulse: and have contented myself with 
asserting, that this fact is not more explicable, than the motions 
Which the Newtonians refer to gravitation ; or than the intercourse 
which is carried on between the mind and external objects in the 
case of perception. The truth, however, is, that some of the ablest 
philosophers in Europe are now satisfied, not only that there is no 
evidence of motion being in any case produced by the actual con¬ 
tact of two bodies ; but that very strong proofs may be given of the 
absolute impossibility of such a supposition; and hence they have 
been led to conclude, that all the effects which are commonly 
referred to impulse, arise from a power of repulsion, extending to 
a small and imperceptible distance round every element of matter. 
—If this doctrine shall be confirmed by future speculations in phy¬ 
sics, it must appear to be a curious circumstance in the history of 
science, that philosophers have been so long occupied in attempting 
to trace all the phenomena of matter, and even some of the pheno¬ 
mena of mind, to a general fact which, upon an accurate exa¬ 
mination, is found to have no existence. I do not make this 
observation with a view to depreciate the labours of these philoso¬ 
phers; for, although the system of Boscovich were completely 
established, it would not diminish, in the smallest degree, the 
value of those physical inquiries, which have proceeded on the 
common hypothesis, with respect to impulse. The laws which 
regulate the communication of motion in the case of apparent con¬ 
tact, are the most general facts we observe among the terrestrial 
phenomena; and they are, of all physical events, those which are 
the most familiar to us, from our earliest infancy. It was therefore 
not only natural but proper, that philosophers should begin their 
physical inquiries, with attempting to refer to these, (which are 
the most general laws of nature, exposed to the examination of our 
senses), the particular appearances they wished to explain. And 
if ever the theory of Boscovich should be completely established, 
it will have no other effect, than to resolve these laws into some 
principle still more general, without affecting the solidity of the 
common doctrine, so far as it goes. 

III. Of Dr. Reid’s Speculations on the Subject of Perception .—It 
was chiefly in consequence of the sceptical conclusions which 
Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Hume had deduced from the ancient 
theories of perception, that Dr. Reid was led to call them in ques- 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


48 


tion; and he appears to me to have shown, in the most satisfactory 
manner, not only that they are perfectly hypothetical, but that the 
suppositions they involve are absurd and impossible. His reason¬ 
ings, on this part of our constitution, undoubtedly form the most 
important accession which the philosophy of the human mind has 
received since the time of Mr. Locke. 

But although Dr. Reid has been at much pains to overturn the 
old ideal system, he has not ventured to substitute any hypothesis of 
his own in its place. And, indeed, he was too well acquainted 
with the limits prescribed to our philosophical inquiries, to think 
of indulging his curiosity in such unprofitable speculations. All, 
therefore, that he is to be understood as aiming at, in his inquiries 
concerning our perceptive powers, is to give a precise state of the 
fact, divested of all theoretical expressions; in order to prevent 
philosophers from imposing on themselves any longer, by words 
without meaning ; and to extort from them an acknowledgment, 
that, with respect to the process of nature in perception, they are 
no less ignorant than the vulgar. 

According to this view of Dr. Reid’s reasonings, on the subject 
of perception, the purpose to which they are subservient may 
appear to some to be of no very considerable importance; but the 
truth is that [one of the most valuable effects of genuine philosophy, 
is to remind us of the limited powers of the human understanding; 
and to revive those natural feelings of wonder and admiration , at the 
spectacle of the universe , which are apt to languish, in consequence 
of long familiarity.] The most profound discoveries which are 
placed within the reach of our researches, lead to a confession of 
human ignorance; for, while they flatter the pride of man, and 
increase his power, by enabling him to trace the simple and beau¬ 
tiful laws by which physical events are regulated, they call his 
attention, at the same time, to those general and ultimate facts 
which bound the narrow circle of his knowledge; and which, by 
evincing to him the operation of powers, whose nature must for 
ever remain unknown, serve to remind him of the insufficiency of 
his faculties to penetrate the secrets of the universe. Wherever 
we direct our inquiries; whether to the anatomy and physiology 
of animals, to the growth of vegetables, to the chemical attractions 
and repulsions, or to the motions of the heavenly bodies; we per¬ 
petually perceive the effects of powers which cannot belong to 
matter. To a certain length we are able to proceed; but in every 
research we meet with a line, which no industry nor ingenuity 
can pass. It is a line too which is marked with sufficient dis¬ 

tinctness ; and which no man now thinks of passing, who has just 
views of the nature and object of philosophy. It forms the sepa¬ 
ration between that field which falls under the survey of the 
physical inquirer, and that unknown region, of which, though it 
was necessary that we should be assured of the existence, in order 
to lay a foundation for the doctrines of natural theology, it hath 


THE POWERS OP EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 


49 


not pleased the Author of the universe to reveal to us the wonders, 
in this infant state of our being. It was, in fact, chiefly by tracing 
out this line, that Lord Bacon did so much service to science. 

Beside this effect, which is common to all our philosophical 
pursuits, of impressing the mind with a sense of that mysterious 
agency, or efficiency, into which general laws must be resolved; 
they have a tendency, in many cases, to counteract the influence of 
habit, in weakening those emotions of wonder and of curiosity, 
which the appearances of nature are so admirably fitted to excite. 
For this purpose, it is necessary, either to lead the attention to 
facts which are calculated to strike by their novelty, or to present 
familiar appearances in a new light: and such are the obvious 
effects of philosophical inquiries ; sometimes extending our views 
to objects which are removed from vulgar observation ; and some¬ 
times correcting our first apprehensions with respect to ordinary 
events. The communication of motion by impulse, (as I already 
hinted,) is as unaccountable as any phenomenon we know; and 
yet, most men are disposed to consider it, as a fact which does not 
result from will, but from necessity. To such men, it may be use¬ 
ful to direct their attention to the universal law of gravitation ; 
which, although not more wonderful in itself, than the common 
effects of impulse, is more fitted, by its novelty, to awaken their 
attention, and to excite their curiosity. If the theory of Boscovich 
should ever be established on a satisfactory foundation, it would 
have this tendency in a still more remarkable degree, by teaching 
us that the communication of motion by impulse , (which we are apt 
to consider as a necessary truth,) has no existence whatever ; and 
that every case in which it appears to our senses to take place, 
is a phenomenon no less inexplicable, than that principle of attrac¬ 
tion which binds together the most remote parts of the universe. 

If such, however, be the effects of our philosophical pursuits 
when successfully conducted, it must be confessed, that the ten¬ 
dency of imperfect or erroneous theories is widely different. By a 
specious solution of insuperable difficulties, they so dazzle and 
bewilder the understanding, as, at once, to prevent us from advanc¬ 
ing, with steadiness, towards the limit of human knowledge; and 
from perceiving the existence of a region beyond it, into which 
philosophy is not permitted to enter. In such cases it is the busi¬ 
ness of genuine science to unmask the imposture, and to point out 
clearly, both to the learned and to the vulgar, what reason can, and 
what she cannot, accomplish. This, I apprehend, has been done, 
with respect to the history of our perceptions, in the most satisfac¬ 
tory ihanner, by Dr. Beid. When a person little accustomed to 
metaphysical speculations is told, that, in the case of volition, there 
are certain invisible fluids, propagated from the mind to the organ 
which is moved; and that in the case of perception, the existence 
and qualities of the external object are made known to us by means 
of species , or phantasms , or images , which are present to the mma 


50 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


in the sensorium; he is apt to conclude that the intercourse between 
mind and matter is much less mysterious than he had supposed ; 
and that, although these expressions may not convey to him any 
very distinct meaning, their import is perfectly understood by 
philosophers. It is now, I think, pretty generally acknowledged 
by physiologists, that the influence of the will over the body, is a 
mystery which has never yet been unfolded ; but singular as it may 
appear, Dr. Reid was the first person who had courage to lay com¬ 
pletely aside all the common hypothetical language concerning 
perception, and to exhibit the difficulty in all its magnitude, by a 
plain statement of the fact. To what then, it may be asked, does 
this statement amount ? Merely to this; [that the mind is so formed, 
that certain impressions produced on our organs of sense by exter¬ 
nal objects, are followed by correspondent sensations; and that 
these sensations, (which have no more resemblance to the qualities 
of matter, than the words of a language have to the things they 
denote,) are followed by a perception of the existence and qualities 
of the bodies by which the impressions are made ; that all the steps 
of this process are equally incomprehensible ; and that for any thing 
we can prove to the contrary, the connexion between the sensation 
and the perception, as well as that between the impression and the 
sensation, may be both arbitrary : that it is therefore by no means 
impossible, that our sensations may be merely the occasions on which 
the correspondent perceptions are excited ; and that at any rate, the 
consideration of these sensations, which are attributes of mind, can 
throw no light on the manner in which we acquire our knowledge 
of the existence and qualities of body.] From this view of the 
subject, it follows, that it is the external objects themselves, and 
not any species or images of these objects, that the mind perceives; 
and that although, by the constitution of our nature, certain sensa¬ 
tions are rendered the constant antecedents of our perceptions, yet 
it is just as difficult to explain how our perceptions are obtained by 
their means, as it would be, upon the supposition, that the mind 
were all at once inspired with them, without any concomitant sen¬ 
sations whatever. 

These remarks are general, and apply to all our various percep¬ 
tions ; and they evidently strike at the root of all the common 
theories upon the subject. The laws, however, which regulate these 
perceptions, are different in the case of the different senses, and 
form a very curious object of philosophical inquiry.—Those, in 
particular, which regulate the acquired perceptions of sight, lead 
to some very interesting and important speculations ; and, I. think, 
have never yet been explained in a manner completely satisfactory. 
To treat of them in detail, does not fall under the plan of this 
work : but I shall have occasion to make a few remarks on them, 
in the chapter on Conception. 

In opposition to what I have here observed on the importance of 
Dr. Reid’s speculations concerning our perceptive powers, I am 



THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 


51 


sensible it may be urged, that they amount merely to a negative dis¬ 
covery ; and it is possible, that some may even be forward to re¬ 
mark, that it was unnecessary to employ so much labour and 
ingenuity as he has done, to overthrow an hypothesis of which a 
plain account would have been a sufficient refutation. To such 
persons, I would beg leave to suggest, that, although in consequence 
of the juster views in pneumatology, which now begin to prevail, 
(chiefly, I believe, in consequence of Dr. Reid’s writings,) the ideal 
system may appear to many readers unphilosophical and puerile; 
yet the case was very different when this author entered upon his 
inquiries : and I may even venture to add, that few positive dis¬ 
coveries in the whole history of science, can be mentioned, which 
found a juster claim to literary reputation, than to have detected, 
so clearly and unanswerably, the fallacy of an hypothesis, which has 
descended to us from the earliest ages of philosophy; and which, in 
modern times, has not only served to Berkeley and Hume as the 
basis of their sceptical systems, but was adopted as an indisputable 
truth by Locke, by Clarke, and by Newton. 

IV. Of the Origin of our Knowledge. —The philosophers who 
endeavoured to explain the operations of the human mind by the 
theory of ideas, and who took for granted, that in every exertion 
of thought there exists in the mind some object distinct from the 
thinking substance, were naturally led to inquire whence these ideas 
derive their origin; in particular, whether they are conveyed to 
the'mind from without by means of the senses, or form part of its 
original furniture? 

With respect to this question, the opinions of the ancients were 
various; but as the influence of these opinions on the prevailing 
systems of the present age is not very considerable, it is not neces¬ 
sary, for any of the purposes I have in view in this work, to con¬ 
sider them particularly. The moderns, too, have been much divided 
on the subject; some holding with Des Cartes, that the mind is 
furnished with certain innate ideas; others, with Mr. Locke, that 
all our ideas may be traced from sensation and reflection ; and many, 
(especially among the later metaphysicians in France,) that they 
may be all traced from sensation alone. 

Of these theories, that of Mr. Locke deserves more particularly 
our attention; as it has served as the basis of most of the meta¬ 
physical systems which have appeared since his time; and as the 
difference between it and the theory which derives all our ideas 
from sensation alone, is rather apparent than real. 

In order to convey a just notion of Mr. Locke’s doctrine con¬ 
cerning the origin of our ideas, it is necessary to remark, that he 
refers to sensation, all the ideas which we are supposed to receive 
by the external senses; our ideas, for example, of colours, of sounds, 
of hardness, of extension, of motion; and r in short, of all the 
qualities and modes of matter; to reflection, the ideas of our own 
mental operations which we derive from consciousness; our ideas, 


52 


PART I. 


CHAP. I. 


for example, of memory, of imagination, of volition, of pleasure, 
and of pain. These two sources, according to him, furnish us with 
all our simple ideas, and the only power which the mind possesses 
over them, is to perform certain operations, in the way of compo¬ 
sition, abstraction, generalization, &c. on the materials which it 
thus collects in the course of its experience. The laudable desire 
of Mr. Locke, to introduce precision and perspicuity into meta¬ 
physical speculations, and his anxiety to guard the mind against 
error in general, naturally prepossessed him in favour of a doctrine 
which, when compared with those of his predecessors, was intelligi¬ 
ble and simple; and which, by suggesting a method, apparently 
easy and palpable, of analysing our knowledge into its elementary 
principles, seemed to furnish an antidote against those prejudices 
which had been favoured by the hypothesis of innate ideas. It is 
now a considerable time since this fundamental principle of Mr. 
Locke’s system began to lose its authority in England; and the 
sceptical conclusions, which it had been employed to support by 
some later writers, furnished its opponents with very plausible 
arguments against it. The late learned Mr. Harris, in particular, 
frequently mentions this doctrine of Mr. Locke, and always in 
terms of high indignation. “ Mark,” (says he, in one passage,) 
“ the order of things, according to the account of our later meta¬ 
physicians. First, comes that huge body, the sensible world. Then 
this, and its attributes beget sensible ideas. Then, out of sensible 
ideas, by a kind of lopping and pruning, are made ideas intelligible, 
whether specific or general. Thus, should they admit that mind 
was coeval with body; yet, till the body gave it ideas, and awakened 
its dormant powers, it could at best have been nothing more than 
a sort of dead capacity; for innate ideas it could not possibly have 
any.” And in another passage: “For my own part, when I read 
the detail about sensation and reflection, and am taught the process 
at large how my ideas are all generated, I seem to view the human 
soul, in the light of a crucible, where truths are produced by a kind 
of logical chemistry.” 

If Dr. Reid’s reasonings on the subject of ideas be admitted, all 
these speculations with respect to their origin fall to the ground; 
and the question to which they relate is reduced merely to a ques¬ 
tion of fact; concerning the occasions on which the mind is first 
led to form those simple notions into which our thoughts may be 
analysed, and which may be considered as the principles or elements 
of human knowledge. With respect to many of these notions, this 
inquiry involves no difficulty. No one, for example, can be at a 
loss to ascertain the occasions on which the notions of colours and 
sounds are first formed by the mind : for these notions are confined 
to individuals who are possessed of particular senses, and cannot, by 
any combination of words, be conveyed to those who never enjoyed 
the use of them. The history of our notions of extension and 
figure, (which may be suggested to the mind by the exercise either 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 


53 


of sight or of touch,) is not altogether so obvious; and accordingly 
it has been the subj ect of various controversies. To trace the origin 
of these, and of our other simple notions with respect to the 
qualities of matter; or, in other words, to describe the occasions 
on which, by the laws of our nature, they are suggested to the 
mind, is one of the leading objects of Dr. Reid’s inquiry, in his 
analysis of our external senses; in which he carefully avoids every 
hypothesis with respect to the inexplicable phenomena of percep¬ 
tion and of thought, and confines himself scrupulously to a literal 
statement of facts.—Similar inquiries to these, may be proposed, 
concerning the occasions on which we form the notions of time , of 
motion , of number , of causation , and an infinite variety of others. 
Thus, it has been observed by different authors, that every percep¬ 
tion of change suggests to the mind the notion of a cause , without 
which that change could not have happened. Dr. Reid remarks, 
that, without the faculty of memory, our perceptive powers could 
never have led us to form the idea of motion. I shall afterwards 
show, in the sequel of this work, that without the same faculty of 
memory, we never could have formed the notion of time ; and that 
without the faculty of abstraction, we could not have formed the 
notion of number .—Such inquiries with respect to the origin of our 
knowledge, are curious and important; and if conducted with judg¬ 
ment, they may lead to the most certain conclusions; as they aim at 
nothing more than to ascertain facts, which, although not obvious to 
superficial observers, may yet be discovered by patient investigation. 

From the remarks which have been just made on our notions of 
time, of motion, and of number, it is evident that the inquiry con¬ 
cerning the origin of human knowledge cannot possibly be discussed 
at the commencement of such a work as this; but that it must be 
resumed in different parts of it, as those faculties of the mind come 
under our view, with which the formation of our different simple 
notions is connected. 

With respect to the general question, Whether all our knowledge 
may be ultimately traced from our sensations ? I shall only observe 
at present, that the opinion we form concerning it, is of much less 
consequence than is commonly supposed. That the mind cannot, 
without the grossest absurdity, be considered in the light of a 
receptacle which is gradually furnished from without, by materials 
introduced by the channel of the senses; nor in that of a tabula rasa 
upon which copies or resemblances of things external are imprmted, 
I have already shown at sufficient length. Although, therefore, we 
should acquiesce in the conclusion, that, without our organs of sense, 
the mind must have remained destitute of knowledge, this conces¬ 
sion could have no tendency whatever to favour the principles o 
materialism; as it implies nothing more than that the impressions 
made on our senses by external objects, furnish the occasions on 
which the mind, by the laws of its constitution, is led to perceive 
the qualities of the material world, and to exert all the dilteien 
modifications of thought of which it is capable. 


54 


PART 


CHAP. 


From the very slight view of the subject, however, which has 
been already given, it is sufficiently evident, that this doctrine, 
which refers the origin of all our knowledge to the occasions fur¬ 
nished by sense, must be received with many limitations. That 
those ideas, which Mr. Locke calls ideas of reflection, (or, in other 
words, the notions which we form of the subjects of our own con¬ 
sciousness,) are not suggested to the mind immediately by the sen¬ 
sations arising from the use of our organs of perception, is granted 
on all hands; and, therefore, the amount of the doctrine now men¬ 
tioned, is nothing more than this: that the first occasions on which 
our various intellectual faculties are exercised, are furnished by 
the impressions made on our organs of sense; and consequently, 
that, without these impressions, it would have been impossible for 
us to arrive at the knowledge of our faculties. Agreeably to this 
explanation of the doctrine, it may undoubtedly be said with 
plausibility, (and, I am inclined to believe, with truth,) that the 
occasions on which all our notions are formed, are furnished either 
immediately or ultimately by sense; but, if I am not much mis¬ 
taken, this is not the meaning which is commonly annexed to the 
doctrine, either by its advocates or their opponents. One thing at 
least is obvious, that, in this sense, it does not lead to those conse¬ 
quences which have interested one party of philosophers in its 
defence, and another in its refutation. 

There is another very important consideration which deserves 
our attention in this argument: that, even on the supposition that 
certain impressions on our organs of sense are necessary to awaken 
the mind to a consciousness of its own existence, and to give 
rise to the exercise of its various faculties; yet all this might 
have happened without our having any knowledge of the qualities, 
or even of the existence, of the material world. To facilitate 

the admission of this proposition, let us suppose a being formed in 
every other respect like man; but possessed of no senses, except¬ 
ing those of hearing and smelling. I make choice of these two 
senses, because it is obvious, that by means of them alone we never 
could have arrived at the knowledge of the primary qualities of 
matter, or even of the existence of things external. All that we 
could possibly have inferred from our occasional sensations of smell 
and sound, would have been that there existed some unknown 
cause by which they were produced. 

Let us suppose then a particular sensation to be excited in the 
mind of such a being. The moment this happens, he must neces¬ 
sarily acquire the knowledge of two facts at once: that of the 
existence of the sensation; and that of his own existence , as a sen¬ 
tient being. After the sensation is at an end, he can remember he 
felt it; he can conceive that he feels it again. If he has felt a 
variety of different sensations, he can compare them together in 
respect of the pleasure or the pain they have afforded him; and will 
naturally desire the return of the agreeable sensations, and be afraid 
of the return of those which were painful. If the sensations of 


THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 


55 


smell and sound are both excited in his mind at the same time, he 
can attend to either of them he chooses, and withdraw his attention 
from the other; or he can withdraw his attention from both, and fix 
it on some sensation he has felt formerly. In this manner, he might 
be led, merely by sensations existing in his mind, and conveying to 
him' no information concerning matter, to exercise many of his most 
important faculties; and amidst all these different modifications 
and operations of his mind, he would feel, with irresistible convic¬ 
tion, that they all belong to one and the same sentient and intelli¬ 
gent being; or, in other words, that they are all modifications and 
operations of himself. I say nothing, at present, of the various 
simple notions, (or simple ideas, as they are commonly called,) 
which would arise in his mind; for example, the ideas of number, 
of duration, of cause and effect, of personal identity ; all of which, 
though perfectly unlike his sensations, could not fail to be -suggested 
by means of them. [Such a being, then, might know all that we 
know of mind at present; and as his language would be appro¬ 
priated to mind solely, and not borrowed by analogy from material 
phenomena, he would even possess important advantages over us in 
conducting the study of pneumatology.] 

From these observations it sufficiently appears, what is the real 
amount of the celebrated doctrine, which refers the origin of all 
our knowledge to our sensations ; and that, even granting it to be 
true, (which, for my own part, I am disposed to do, in the sense in 
which I have now explained it,) it would by no means follow from 
it, that our notions of the operations of mind, nor even many of 
those notions which are commonly suggested to us, in the first 
instance, by the perception of external objects, are necessarily subse¬ 
quent to our knowledge of the qualities, or even of the existence, 
of matter. 

The remarks which I have offered on this doctrine, will not ap¬ 
pear superfluous to those who recollect that, although it has, for 
many years past, been a subject of controversy in England, it 
continues still to be implicitly adopted by the best philosophical 
writers in France; and that [it has been employed by some of 
them to support the system of materialism : and by others to show, 
that the intellectual distinctions between man and brutes, arise 
entirely from the differences in their animal organization, and in 
their powers of external perception.] 



56 


CHAPTER II. 

OF ATTENTION. 

I. The Connexion between Attention and Memory .— When we are 
deeply engaged in conversation, or occupied with any speculation 
that is interesting to the mind, the surrounding objects either do 
not produce in us the perceptions they are fitted to excite; or 
these perceptions are instantly forgotten. A clock, for example, 
may strike in the same room with us, without our being able, next 
moment, to recollect whether we heard it or not. 

In these, and similar cases, I believe, it is commonly taken for 
granted, that we really do not perceive the external object. From 
some analogous facts, however, I am inclined to suspect that this 
opinion is not well founded, A person who falls asleep at 

church, and is suddenly awaked, is unable to recollect the last 
words spoken by the preacher; or even to recollect that he was 
speaking at all. And yet, that sleep does not suspend entirely 
the powers of perception, may be inferred from this, that if the 
preacher were to make a sudden pause in his discourse, every 
person in the congregation who was asleep, would instantly awake. 
In this case, therefore, it appears, that a person may he conscious of 
a perception , without being able afterwards to recollect it. 

Many other instances of the same general fact might be 
produced. When we read a book, (especially in a language which 
is not perfectly familiar to us,) we must perceive successively every 
different letter, and must afterwards combine these letters into 
syllables and words, before we comprehend the meaning of a sen¬ 
tence. This process, however, passes through the mind, without 
leaving any trace in the memory. 

fit has been proved by optical writers, that, in perceiving the 
distances of visible objects from the eye, there is & judgment of the 
understanding antecedent to the perception.] In some cases this 
judgment is founded on a variety of circumstances combined toge¬ 
ther ; the conformation of the organ necessary for distinct vision; 
the inclination of the optic axes; the distinctness or indistinctness 
of the minute parts of the object ; the distances of the intervening 
objects from each other, and from the eye; and, perhaps on other 
circumstances besides these : and yet, in consequence of our fami¬ 
liarity with such processes from our earliest infancy, the perception 
seems to be instantaneous ; and it requires much reasoning, to con¬ 
vince persons unaccustomed to philosophical speculations, that the 
fact is otherwise. 

Another instance of a still more familiar nature, may be of use 
for the farther illustration of the same subject. It is well known, 
that our thoughts do not succeed each other at random, but accord¬ 
ing to certain laws of association, which modern philosophers have 


OF ATTENTION. 


57 

been at much pains to investigate. It frequently, however, hap¬ 
pens, particularly when the mind is animated by conversation, that 
it makes a sudden transition from one subject to another, which, at 
first view, appears to be very remote from it; and that it requires 
a considerable degree of reflection, to enable the person himself by 
whom the transition was made, to ascertain what were the interme¬ 
diate ideas. A curious instance of such a sudden transition is men¬ 
tioned by Hobbes in his Leviathan. “ In a company,” (says he,) 
“ in which the conversation turned on the civil war, what could be 
conceived more impertinent, than for a person to ask abruptly. 
What was the value of a Roman denarius ? On a little reflection, 
however, I was easily able to trace the train of thought which 
suggested the question : for the original subject of discourse 
naturally introduced the history of the king, and of the treachery 
of those who surrendered his person to his enemies; this again 
introduced the treachery of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of money 
which he received for his reward.—And all this train of ideas,” 
says Hobbes, “passed through the mind of the speaker in a 
twinkling, in consequence of the velocity of thought.” It is by no 
means improbable, that if the speaker himself had been interrogated 
about the connexion of ideas, which led him aside from the original 
topic of discourse, he would have found himself, at first, at a loss 
for an answer. 

In the instances which have been last mentioned we have also a 
proof, that a perception, or an idea, which passes through the mind, 
without leaving any trace in the memory, may yet serve to intro¬ 
duce other ideas connected with it by the laws of association. Other 
proofs of this important fact shall be mentioned afterwards. 

When a perception or an idea passes through the mind, without 
our being able to recollect it next moment, the vulgar themselves 
ascribe our want of memory to a want of attention. Thus, in the 
instance already mentioned, of the clock, a person, upon observing 
that the^minute-hand had just passed twelve, would naturally say, 
that he did not attend to the clock when it was striking. There 
seems therefore, to be a certain effort of mind upon which, even in 
the judgment of the vulgar, memory in some measure depends ; and 
which they distinguish by the name of attention. 

The connexion between attention and memory has been remarked 
by many authors. “ Nec dubium est,” (says Quinctilian, speaking 
of memory,) “ quin plurimum in hac parte valeat mentis intentio, 
et velut acies luminum a prospectu rerum quas intuetur non 
aversa.” * The same observation has been made by Locke,f and by 
most of the writers on the subject of education. 

But although the connexion between attention and memory has 
been frequently remarked in general terms, I do not recollect that 

* u There is no doubt that in attaining this object great effect is produced by close 
attention of the mind, as it were the sight, fixed on what it contemplates.” 

f “ Memory depends much on attention and repetition.” 


58 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


the power of attention has been mentioned by any of the writers on 
pneumatology, in their enumeration of the faculties of the mind; * 
nor has it been considered by any one, so far as I know, as of suffi¬ 
cient importance to deserve a particular examination. Helvetius, 
indeed, in his very ingenious work, De VEsprit, has entitled one 
of his chapters, De Vintgale Capacite cCAttention ; but what he con¬ 
siders under this article, is chiefly that capacity of patient inquiry, 
(or as he calls it, une attention suivie ,) upon which philosophical 
genius seems in a great measure to depend. He has also remarked,! 
with the writers already mentioned, that the impression which any 
thing makes on the memory, depends much on the degree of atten¬ 
tion we give to it ; but he has taken no notice of that effort which 
is absolutely essential to the lowest degree of memory. It is this 
effort that I propose to consider at present:—not those different 
degrees of attention which imprint things more or less deeply on 
the mind, but that act or effort without which we have no recollec¬ 
tion or memory whatever. 

With respect to the nature of this effort, it is perhaps impossible 
for us to obtain much satisfaction. We often speak of greater and 
less degrees of attention; and, I believe, in these cases, conceive the 
mind (if I may use the expression) to exert itself with different 
degrees of energy. I am doubtful, however, if this expression 
conveys any distinct meaning. For my own part, I am inclined 
to suppose, (though I would by no means be understood to speak 
with confidence,) that it is essential to memory, that the perception 
or the idea that we would wish to remember, should remain in the 
mind for a certain space of time, and should be contemplated by it 
exclusively of every thing else ; and that attention consists partly 
(perhaps entirely) in the effort of the mind to detain the idea or the 
perception, and to exclude the other objects that solicit its notice. 

Notwithstanding, however, the difficulty of ascertaining, in what 
this act of the mind consists, every person must be satisfied of its 
reality from his own consciousness; and of its essential connexion 
with the power of memory. I have already mentioned several 
instances of ideas passing through the mind, without our being able 

* Some important observations on the subject of attention occur in different parts of 
Dr. Reid’s writings ; particularly in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, and 
in his Essays on the Active Powers of Man, Essay II. chap. iii. §. i. edit. 1843.—To 
this ingenious author we are indebted for the remark, that attention to things external, 
is properly called observation ; and attention to the subjects of our consciousness, 
reflection. He has also explained the causes of the peculiar difficulties which accom¬ 
pany this last exertion of the mind, and which form the chief obstacles to the progress 
of pneumatology. I shall have occasion, in another part of this work, to treat of habits 
of inattention in general, and to suggest some practical hints with respect to the culture 
both of the powers of observation and reflection. The view which I propose to take of 
attention at present, is extremely limited ; and is intended merely to comprehend such 
general principles as are necessary to prepare the reader for the chapters which are to 
follow. 

f “ C’est l’attention, plus ou moins grande, qui grave plus ou moins profonddment les 
objets dans la memoire.”—[It is attention, more or less close, which impresses objects 
more or less deeply on the memory.] 


OF ATTENTION. 


59 

to recollect them next moment. These instances were produced 
merely to illustrate the meaning I annex to the word attention ; 
and to recall to the recollection of the reader, a few striking cases, 
m winch the possibility of our carrying on a process of thought, 
which we are unable to attend to at the time, or to remember 
afterwards, is acknowledged in the received systems of philosophy. 
1 shall now mention some other phenomena, which appear to me 
to be very similar to these, and to be explicable in the same 
manner; although they have commonly been referred to very 
different principles. 

The wonderful effect of practice in the formation of habits, has 
been often, and justly taken notice of, as one of the most curious 
circumstances in the human constitution. A mechanical operation, 
for example, which we at first performed with the utmost difficulty, 
comes, in time, to be so familiar to us, that we are able to perform 
it without the smallest danger of mistake; even while the attention 
appears to be completely engaged with other subjects. The truth 
semns to be, that in consequence of the association of ideas, the 
different steps of the process present themselves successively to the 
thoughts, without any recollection on our part, and with a degree 
of rapidity proportioned to the length of our experience, so as to 
save us entirely the trouble of hesitation and reflection, by giving 
us every moment a precise and steady notion of the effect to be 
produced.* 

In the case of some operations which are very familiar to us, we 
find ourselves unable to attend to, or to recollect, the acts of the 
will by which they are preceded ; and accordingly, some philoso¬ 
phers of great eminence have called in question the existence of 
such volitions ; and have represented our habitual actions as invo¬ 
luntary and mechanical. But surely the circumstance of our 
inability to recollect our volitions, does not authorise us to dispute 
their possibility; any more than our inability to attend to the pro¬ 
cess of the mind , in estimating the distance of an object from the eye, 
authorizes us to affirm that the perception is instantaneous. Nor 
does it add any force to the objection to urge,that there are instances 
in which we find it difficult, or perhaps impossible, to check our 
habitual actions by a contrary volition. Tor it must be remem¬ 
bered, that this contrary volition does not remain with us steadily 
during the whole operation; but is merely a general intention or 
resolution, which is banished from the mind, as soon as the occasion 
presents itself with which the habitual train of* our thoughts and 
volitions is associated.! 

* I do not mean by this observation, to call in question the effects which the practice 
of the mechanical arts has on the muscles of the body. These are as indisputable as 
its effects on the mind. A man who has been accustomed to write with his right hand, 
can write better with his left hand, than another who never practised the art at all; 
but he cannot write so well with his left hand as with his right.—The effects of practice, 
therefore, it should seem, are produced partly on the mind, and partly on the body. 

f The solution of this difficulty, which is given by Dr. Porterfield, is somewhat 


60 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


It may indeed be said, that these observations only prove the 
possibility that our habitual actions may be voluntary. But if this 
be admitted, nothing more can well be required: for surely, if these 
phenomena are clearly explicable from the known and acknow¬ 
ledged laws of the human mind, it would be unphilosophical to 
devise a new principle, on purpose to account for them. The 
doctrine, therefore, which I have laid down with respect to the 
nature of habits, is by no means founded on hypothesis, as has been 
objected to me by some of my friends; but on the contrary, the 
charge of hypothesis falls on those who attempt to explain them, by 
saying that they are mechanical or automatic ; a doctrine which, if 
it is at all intelligible, must be understood as implying the existence 
of some law of our constitution, which has been hitherto unobserved 
by philosophers : and to which, I believe, it will be difficult to find 
any thing analogous in our constitution. 

II. O/* Habits in which both mind and body are concerned .—In 
the foregoing observations, I have had in view a favourite doctrine 
of Dr. Hartley’s, which has been maintained also of late by a 
much higher authority, I mean Dr. Reid. 

“ Habit,” (says this ingenious author, Essays on the Active 
Powers of Man, Essay III., Part I. chap. iii. §. i. edit. 1843,) 
“ differs from instinct, not in its nature, but in its origin ,* the last 
being natural, the first acquired. Both operate without will or 
intention, without thought, and therefore may be called mechanical 
principles.” In another passage, (p. 130) he expresses himself thus : 
“ I conceive it to be a part of our constitution, that what we have 
been accustomed to do, we acquire not only a facility but a prone¬ 
ness to do on like occasions: so that it requires a particular will or 
effort to forbear it, but to do it requires, very often, no will at all.” 

The same doctrine is laid down still more explicitly by Dr. 
Hartley. 

“ Suppose,” says he, “ a person who has a perfectly voluntary 
command over his fingers, to begin to learn to play on the harpsi¬ 
chord. The first step is to move his fingers from'key to key, with 
a slow motion, looking at the notes, and exerting an express act of 
volition in every motion. By degrees the motions cling to one 
another, and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of associa¬ 
tion, so often mentioned, the acts of volition growing less and less 
express all the time, till at last they become evanescent and imper¬ 
ceptible. For an expert performer will play from notes, or ideas 
laid up in the memory, and at the same time carry on quite a 

curious. (C Such is the power of custom and habit, that many actions, which are no 
doubt voluntary, and proceed from our mind, are in certain circumstances rendered 
necessary, so as to appear altogether mechanical, and independent of our wills ; but it 
does not from thence follow, that our mind is not concerned in such motions, but only 
that it has imposed upon itself a law, whereby it regulates and governs them to the 
greatest advantage. In all this, there is nothing of intrinsical necessity ; the mind 
is at absolute liberty to act as it pleases ; but being a wise agent, it cannot choose but 
to act in conformity to this law, by reason of the utility and advantage that arise from 
this way of acting.”—Treatise on the Eye, vol. ii. p. 17. 


OF ATTENTION. 


61 

different train of thoughts in his mind ; or even hold a conversation 
with another. Whence we may conclude, that there is no inter¬ 
vention of the idea, or state of mind, called the will.” (Yol. i. 
p. 108, 109.) Cases of this sort, Hartley calls “transitions of volun¬ 
tary actions into automatic ones.” 

I cannot help. thinking it. more philosophical to suppose, that 
those actions which are originally voluntary, always continue so; 
although in the case of operations which are become habitual in 
consequence of long practice, we may not be able to recollect every 
different volition. Hgir Thus in the case of a performer on the harp¬ 
sichord , I apprehend, that there is an act of the will preceding 
every motion of every finger, although he may not be able to recol¬ 
lect these volitions afterwards : and although he may, during the 
time of his performance, be employed in carrying on a separate 
train of thought. For, it must be remarked, that the most rapid 
performer can, when he pleases, play so slowly, as to be able to 
attend to, and to recollect, every separate act of his will in the 
various movements of his fingers; and he can gradually accelerate 
the rate of his execution, till he is unable to recollect these acts. 
Now, in this instance, one of two suppositions must be made; 
the one is, that the operations in the two cases are carried on 
precisely in the same manner, and differ only in the degree of 
rapidity; and that when this rapidity exceeds a certain rate, the 
acts of the will are too momentary to leave any impression on the 
memory.—The other is, that when the rapidity exceeds a certain 
rate, the operation is taken entirely out of our hands; and is car¬ 
ried on by some unknown power, of the nature of which we are as 
ignorant, as of the cause of the circulation of the blood, or of the 
motion of the intestines.* The last supposition seems to me to be 
somewhat similar to that of a man, who should maintain, that, 
although a body projected with a moderate velocity, is seen to pass 
through all the intermediate spaces in moving from one place to 
another, yet we are not entitled to conclude, that this happens when 
the body moves so quickly as to become invisible to the eye. The 
former supposition is supported by the analogy of many other facts 
in our constitution. Of some of these, I have already taken notice; 
and it would be easy to add to the number. An expert 

accountant , for example, can sum up, almost with a single glance 

* This seems to have been the opinion of Bishop Berkely, whose doctrine concern¬ 
ing the nature of our habitual actions, coincides with that of the two philosophers 
already quoted. “ It must be owned, we are not conscious of the systole and diastole 
of the heart, or the motion of the diaphragm. It may not, nevertheless, be thence 
inferred, that unknowing nature can act regularly as well as ourselves. The true 
inference is, that the self-thinking individual, or human person, is not the real author 
of those natural motions. And, in fact, no man blames himself, if they are wrong, or 
values himself, if they are right. The same may be said of the fingers of a musician, 
which some object to be moved by habit, which understands not ; it being evident that 
what is done by rule, must proceed from something that understands the rule ; there¬ 
fore, if not from the musician himself, from some other active intelligence ; the same, 
perhaps, which governs bees and spiders, and moves the limbs of those who walk in 
their sleep.”—See a Treatise, entitled “ Siris,” p. 123, second edition. 


62 


PART I. 


CIIAP. IT. 


of his eye, a long column of figures. He can tell the sum with 
unerring certainty; while, at the same time, he is unable to recol¬ 
lect any one of the figures of which that sum is composed; and yet 
nobody doubts, that each of these figures has passed through his 
mind, or supposes, that when the rapidity of the process becomes 
so great that he is unable to recollect the various steps of it, he 
obtains the result by a sort of inspiration. This last supposition 
would be perfectly analogous to Dr. Hartley’s doctrine concerning 
the nature of our habitual exertions. 

The only plausible objection which, I think, can be offered to 
the principles I have endeavoured to establish on this subject, is 
founded on the astonishing, and almost incredible rapidity, they 
necessarily suppose in our intellectual operations. When a person, 
for example, reads aloud; there must, according to this doctrine, 
be a separate volition preceding the articulation of every letter; 
and it has been found, by actual trial,* that it is possible to pro¬ 
nounce about two thousand letters in a minute. [Is it reasonable 
to suppose, that the mind is capable of so many different acts in an 
interval of time so very inconsiderable?] 

(1.) With respect to this objection, it may be observed, in the 
first place, that all arguments against the foregoing doctrine with 
respect to our habitual exertions, in so far as they are founded on 
the inconceivable rapidity which they suppose in our intellectual 
operations, apply equally to the common doctrine concerning our 
perception of distance by the eye. But this is not all. To what 
does the supposition amount, which is considered as so incredible ? 
Only to this, that the mind is so formed, as to be able to carry on 
certain intellectual processes, in intervals of time too short to be 
estimated by our faculties; a supposition which, so far from being 
extravagant, is supported by the analogy of many of our most cer¬ 
tain conclusions in natural philosophy. The discoveries made 

by the microscope , have laid open to our senses a world of wonders, 
the existence of which hardly any man* would have admitted upon 
inferior evidence ; and have gradually prepared the way for those 
physical speculations, which explain some of the most extraordinary 
phenomena of nature, by means of modifications of matter far too 
subtile for the examination of our organs. Why then should it be 
considered as unphilosophical, after having demonstrated the exist¬ 
ence of various intellectual processes which escape our attention 

* Incredibili velocitate peraguntur et repetuntur musculorum contractiones. Docent 
cursus, prsesertim quadrupedum ; vel lingua, quae quadringinta vocabula, forte bis 
mille literas, exprimit, spatio temporis quod minutum vocare solemus, quamvis ad 

multas literas exprimendas plures musculorum contractiones requirantur_Conspectus 

Medicinse Theoretics, Auct. Jac. Gregory. Edit, altera, p, 171. 

[The contractions of the muscles take place and are repeated with incredible quick¬ 
ness. We may collect this from the speed of animals, especially quadrupeds ; or from 
the motions of the tongue, which perhaps pronounces in a minute, four hundred words 
consisting of two thousand letters, although various letters require several contractions 
of the muscles, or, although to the expression of many letters, more contractions of 
the muscles are required.—Gregory’s “ View of the Theory of the Healing Art.”] 


OF ATTENTION. 


63 


in consequence of their rapidity, to carry the supposition a little 
farther, in order to bring under the known laws of the human 
constitution a class of mental operations, which must otherwise 
remain perfectly inexplicable? Surely, our ideas of time are 
merely relative, as well as our ideas of extension; nor is there any 
good reason for doubting, that, if our powers of attention and 
memory were more perfect than they are, so as to give us the 
same advantage in examining rapid events, which the microscope 
gives for examining minute portions of extension, they would 
enlarge our views with respect to the intellectual world, no less 
than that instrument has with respect to the material. 

(2.) It may contribute to remove, still more completely, some of 
the scruples which are naturally suggested by the foregoing doc¬ 
trine, to remark, that, [as the great use of attention and memory is 
to enable us to treasure up the results of our experience and reflec¬ 
tion for the future regulation of our conduct, it would have 
answered no purpose for the Author of our nature to have extended 
their province to those intervals of time, which we have no occasion 
to estimate in the common business of life.] All the intellectual 
processes I have mentioned are subservient to some particular 
end, either of perception or of action; and it would have been 
perfectly superfluous, if, after this end were gained, the steps which 
are instrumental in bringing it about, were all treasured up in the 
memory. Such a constitution of our nature would have had no 
other effect but to store the mind with a variety of useless particulars. 

After all I have said, it will perhaps be still thought, that some 
of the reasonings I have offered are too hypothetical; and it is even 
possible, that some may be disposed rather to dispute the common 
theory of vision, than admit the conclusions I have endeavoured to 
establish. To such readers the following considerations may be of 
use, as they afford a more palpable instance, than any I have yet 
mentioned, of the rapidity with which the thoughts may be trained 
by practice, to shift from one thing to another. 

When an equilibrist balances a rod upon his finger, not only 
the attention of his mind, but the observation of his eye, is constantly 
requisite. It is evident that the part of his body which supports 
the object is never wholly at rest; otherwise the object would no 
more stand upon it, than if placed in the same position upon a 
table. The equilibrist, therefore, must watch, in the very begin¬ 
ning, every inclination of the object from the proper position, in 
order to counteract this inclination by a contrary movement. In 
this manner, the object has never time to fall in any one direction, 
and is supported in a way somewhat analogous to that in which a 
top is supported on a pivot, by being made to spin upon an axis.— 
That a person should be able to do this in the case of a single 
object, is curious ; but that he should be able to balance in the 
same way, two, or three, upon different parts of his body, and at 
the same time balance himself on a small cord or wire, is indeed 


64 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


wonderful. Nor is it possible to conceive that, in such an instance, 
the mind, at one and the same moment, attends to these different 
equilibriums ; for it is not merely the attention which is requisite, 
but the eye. We must therefore conclude, that both of these are 
directed successively to the different equilibriums, but change from 
one object to another with such velocity , that the effect, with respect 
to the experiment, is the same as if they were directed to all the 
objects constantly. 

It is worth while to remark farther, with respect to [this last illus¬ 
tration, that it affords direct evidence of the possibility of our exerting 
acts of the will, which we are unable to recollect ;] for the movements 
of the equilibrist do not succeed each other in a regular order, 
like those of the harpsichord player, in performing a piece of 
music; but must in every instance be regulated by accidents, which 
may vary in numberless respects, and which indeed must vary in 
numberless respects every time he repeats the experiment: and 
therefore, although, in the former case, we should suppose, with 
Hartley, “ that the motions cling to one another, and to the impres¬ 
sions of the notes, in the way of association, without any interven¬ 
tion of the state of mind called will,” yet, in this instance, even 
the possibility of such a supposition is directly contradicted by the 
fact. 

The dexterity of jugglers (which, by the way, merits a greater 
degree of attention from philosophers, than it has yet attracted,) 
affords many curious illustrations of the same doctrine. The whole 
of this art seems to me to be founded on this principle : that it is 
possible for a person, by long practice, to acquire a power, not 
only of carrying on certain intellectual processes more quickly 
than other men, (for all the feats of legerdemain suppose the 
exercise of observation, thought, and volition,) but of performing 
a variety of movements with the hand, before the eyes of a com¬ 
pany, in an interval of time too short to enable the spectators to 
exert that degree of attention which is necessary to lay a foundation 
for memory. (See note e.) 

As some philosophers have disputed the influence of the will in 
the case of habits, so others (particularly Stahl and his followers) 
have gone into the opposite extreme, by referring to the will all the 
vital motions. If it be admitted, say these philosophers, that there 
are instances in which we will an effect, without being able to make 
it an object of attention, is it not possible that, what we commonly 
call the vital and involuntary motions, may be the consequences of 
our own thought and volition ? But there is surely a wide differ¬ 
ence between those cases, in which the mind was at first conscious 
of thought and volition, and gradually lost the power of attending 
to them, from the growing rapidity of the intellectual process; and 
a case in which the effect itself is perfectly unknown to the bulk of 
mankind, even after they arrive at maturity, and in which this 
effect has continued to take place with the most perfect regularity. 


OF ATTENTION. 


65 

from the very beginning of their animal existence, and long before 
the first dawn of either reflection or experience. 

Some of the followers of Stahl have stated the fact rather inac¬ 
curately, even with respect to our habitual exertions. Thus Dr. 
Porterfield, in his Treatise on the Eye, is at pains to prove, that the 
soul may think and will without knowledge or consciousness. But 
this, I own, is to me inconceivable. The true state of the fact, I 
apprehend, is, that the mind may think and will, without attending 
to its thoughts and volitions, so as to be able afterwards to recollect 
them.—Nor is this merely a verbal criticism; for there is an import¬ 
ant difference between consciousness and attention, which it is very 
necessary to keep in view, in order to think upon this subject with 
any degree of precision. * The one is an involuntary state of the 
mind; the other is a voluntary act: the one has no immediate 
connexion with memory; but the other is so essentially subservient 
to it, that without some degree of it, the ideas and perceptions 
which pass through the mind, seem to leave no trace behind them. 

When two persons are speaking to us at once, we can attend 
to either of them at pleasure, without being much disturbed by the 
other. If we attempt to listen to both, we can understand neither. 
The fact seems to be, that when we attend constantly to one of 
the speakers, the words spoken by the other make no impression 
on the memory, in consequence of our not attending to them; and 
affect us as little as if they had not been uttered. This power, 
however, of the miftd to attend to either speaker at pleasure, sup¬ 
poses that it is, at one and the same time, conscious of the sensa¬ 
tions which both produce. 

Another well-known fact may be of use in illustrating the same 
distinction. A person who accidentally loses his sight, never fails 
to improve gradually in the sensibility of his touch. Now, there 
are only two ways of explaining. this. The one is, that, in conse¬ 
quence of the loss of the one sense, some change takes place in the 
physical constitution of the body, so as to improve a different organ 
of perception. The other, that the mind gradually acquires a power 
of attending to and remembering those slighter sensations of which 
it was formerly conscious, but which, from our habits of inattention, 
made no impression whatever on the memory. No one, surely, can 
hesitate for a moment, in pronouncing which of these two sup¬ 
positions is the more philosophical. 

Having treated, at considerable length, of those habits in which 
both mind and body are concerned, I proceed to make a few remarks 
on some phenomena which are purely intellectual; and which, I 

* The distinction between attention and consciousness is pointed out by Dx*. Reid, in 
his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, Essay I. chap. v. § viii. 8vo, edit. 1843. 
“ Attention is (1) a voluntary act; it requires an active exertion to begin and to 
continue it ; and (2) it may be continued as long as we will ; but consciousness is 
involuntary, and of no continuance, changing with every thought.” The same author 
has remarked, that these two opei*ations of the mind have been frequently confounded 
by philosophers, and particularly by Mr. Locke. 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


66 


think, are explicable on the same principles with those which have 
been now under our review. 

III. Phenomena or Habits purely intellectual .—Every person 
who has studied the elements of geometry, must have observed many 
cases in which the truth of a theorem struck him the moment he 
heard the enunciation. I do not allude to those theorems the truth 
of which is obvious almost to sense; such as, that any two sides of 
a triangle are greater than the third side ; or that one circle cannot 
cut another circle in more than two points; but to some pro¬ 
positions with respect to quantity, considered abstractly (to some, 
for example, in the fifth book of Euclid), which almost every stu¬ 
dent would be ready to admit without a demonstration. These pro¬ 
positions, however, do by no means belong to the class of axioms ; 
for their evidence does not strike every person equally, but requires 
a certain degree of quickness to perceive it. At the same time, 
it frequently happens, that although we are convinced the pro¬ 
position is true, we cannot state immediately to others upon what 
our conviction is founded. In such cases, I think it highly probable, 
that before we give our assent to the theorem, a process of thought* 
has passed through the mind, but has passed through it so quickly, 
that we cannot, without difficulty, arrest our ideas in their rapid 
succession, and state them to others in their proper and logical order. 
It is some confirmation of this theory, that there are no propositions 
of which it is more difficult to give a legitimate proof from first 
principles, than of those which are only remoVed a few steps from 
the class of axioms; and that those men who are the most remark¬ 
able for their quick perception of mathematical truth, are seldom 
clear and methodical in communicating their knowledge to others. 
A man of a moderate degree of quickness, the very first time he is 
made acquainted with the fundamental principles of the method of 
fluxions, or of the method of prime and ultimate ratios, is almost 
instantaneously satisfied of their truth; yet how difficult is it to 
demonstrate these principles rigorously! 

What I have now said with respect to mathematics, may be 
applied in a great measure to the other branches of knowledge. 
How many questions daily occur to us, in morals, in politics, and in 
common life; in considering which, we almost instantaneously see 
where the truth lies, although we are not in a condition, all at once, 
to explain the grounds of our conviction ! Indeed, I apprehend, 
there are few, even among those who have devoted themselves to 
study," but who have not been habituated to communicate their 
knowledge to others, who are able to exhibit, in their natural 
order, the different steps of any investigation by which they have 
been led to form a particular conclusion. The common observation, 
therefore, that an obscure elocution always indicates an imperfect 

* Of the nature of these processes of thought, I shall treat fully in another part of 
my work, under the article of Reasoning. I have expressed myself concerning them, 
in this chapter, in as general terms as possible. 


OP ATTENTION. 


67 

knowledge of the subject; although it may perhaps be true with 
respect to men who have cultivated the art of speaking, is by no 
means to be relied on as a general rule, in judging of the talents 
of those whose speculations have been carried on with a view 
merely to their own private satisfaction. 

In the course of my own experience, I have heard of more than 
one instance, of men who, without any mathematical education, 
were able, on a little reflection, to give a solution of any simple 
algebraical problem; and who, at the same time, were perfectly 
incapable of explaining by what steps they obtained the result. In 
these cases, we have a direct proof of the possibility of investigating 
even truths which are pretty remote, by an intellectual process, 
which, as soon as it is finished, vanishes almost entirely from the 
memory. It is probable that something of the same kind takes 
place much more frequently in the other branches of knowledge, in 
which our reasonings consist commonly but of a few steps. Indeed 
I am inclined to think, that it is in this way that by far the greater 
part of our speculative conclusions are formed. 

There is no talent, I apprehend, so essential to a public speaker, 
as to be able to state clearly every different step of those trains of 
thought by which he himself was led to the conclusions he wishes to 
establish. Much may be here done by study and experience. Even 
in those cases in which the truth of a proposition seems to strike us 
instantaneously, although we may not be able, at first, to discover 
the media of proof, we seldom fail in the discovery by perseverance. 
—Nothing contributes so much to form this talent as the study of 
metaphysics; not the absurd metaphysics of the schools, but that 
study which has the operations of the mind for its object. By 
habituating us to reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it 
enables us to retard, in a considerable degree, the current of 
thought; to arrest many of those ideas, which would otherwise 
escape our notice; and to render the arguments which we employ 
for the conviction of others, an exact transcript of those trains of 
inquiry and reasoning, which originally led us to form our opinions. 

These observations lead me to take notice of an important 
distinction between the intellectual habits of men of speculation and 
of action. The latter, who are under a necessity of thinking and 
deciding on the spur of the occasion, are led to cultivate, as much 
as possible, a quickness in their mental operations; and sometimes 
acquire it in so great a degree, that their judgment seems to be 
almost intuitive. To those, on the other hand, who have not merely 
to form opinions for themselves, but to communicate them to others, 
it is necessary to retard the train of thought as it passes in the 
mind, so as to be able afterwards to recollect every different step of 
the process; a habit which, in some cases, has such an influence on 
the intellectual powers, that there are men who, even in their 
private speculations, not only make use of words as an instrument 
of thought, but form these words into regular sentences. 

F 2 


08 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


It may perhaps appear, at first, a paradoxical observation, that 
one great employment of philosophers, in a refined age, is to bring 
to light, and arrange, those rapid and confused trains of thought, 
which appear from the structure of languages, and from the monu¬ 
ments of ancient laws and governments, to have passed through the 
minds of men in the most remote and unenlightened periods. . In 
proof, however, of this, it is sufficient to mention, the systematical 
analogy which we find, to a certain degree, running through the 
structure of the most imperfect tongues, (for example, in the for¬ 
mation of the different parts of the verbs,) and those general prin¬ 
ciples, which the philosophical lawyer traces amidst an apparent 
chaos of precedents and statutes. In the language, too, of the 
rudest tribe, we find words transferred from one subject to another, 
which indicate, in the mind of the individual who first made the 
transference, some perception of resemblance or of analogy. Such 
transferences can hardly be ascribed to accident, but may be con¬ 
sidered as proofs that the analogies which the philosopher afterwards 
points out between the objects which are distinguished by the same 
name, had been perceived by the inventors of language, although it 
is more than probable that they never expressed them in words, 
nor could even have explained them if they had been questioned 
on the subject. 

Nqt will this appear a bold or incredible supposition, if we 
reflect on the sagacity and ingenuity which savages, and even 
peasants, discover, in overcoming the difficulties which occur in 
their situation. They do not, indeed, engage in long processes of 
abstract reasoning, for which they have no inclination, and which 
it is impossible to carry on without the use of a cultivated and a 
copious language; but when pressed by present circumstances, they 
combine means to accomplish particular ends, in a manner which 
indicates the exercise both of invention and of reasoning. It is 
probable that such processes are carried on in their minds, with 
much less assistance from language, than a philosopher would 
derive on a similar occasion; and it is almost certain, that they 
would find themselves perfectly capable of communicating to others 
the steps by which they were led to their conclusions. In conse¬ 
quence of these circumstances, the attainments of the human mind, 
in its ruder state, perish with the individual, without being recorded 
in writing, or perhaps expressed in words; and we are left to infer 
them indirectly from the structure of language, or from the monu¬ 
ments of ancient customs and institutions. 

[[When a train of thought leads to any interesting conclusion, or 
excites any pleasant feeling, it becomes peculiarly difficult to arrest 
our fleeting ideas; because the mind, when once it has felt the 
pleasure, has little inclination to retrace the steps by which it arrived 
at it. . This is one great cause of the difficulty attending philosophi¬ 
cal criticism.] When a critic explains to us, why we are pleased 
with any particular beauty, or offended with any defect, it is 


OF ATTENTION*. 


69 

evident, that if his theory be just, the circumstances which he points 
out as the foundation of our pleasure or uneasiness, must have 
occurred to our minds before we were pleased with the beauty, or 
offended with the defect. In such cases, it sometimes happens, 
when a critic has been fortunate in his theory, that we recognize at 
first sight our old ideas, and without any farther consideration, are 
ready to bear testimony to the truth, from our own consciousness. 
So very difficult, however, is it to attend to the ideas which excite 
such feelings, that it often appears to be doubtful, whether a theory 
be right or wrong; and that where there is every reason to believe 
that the pleasure is produced in all men in the same way, different 
critics adopt different theories with respect to its cause. It is long 
practice alone, joined to what is commonly called a metaphysical 
turn of mind (by which I think is chiefly to be understood, a 
capacity of reflecting on the subjects of our consciousness), that 
can render such efforts of attention easy. Exquisite sensibility, so 
far from being useful in this species of criticism, both gives a dis¬ 
relish for the study, and disqualifies for pursuing it. 

Before we leave the subject of attention, it is proper to take 
notice of a question which has been stated with respect to it; 
whether we have the power of attending to more than one thing 
at one and the same instant; or, in other words, whether we can 
attend at one and the same instant, to objects which we can attend 
to separately?* This question has if I am not mistaken, been 
already decided by several philosophers in the negative; and I 
acknowledge for my own part, that although their opinion has not 
only been called in question by others, but even treated with some 
degree of contempt as altogether hypothetical, it appears to me to 
be the most reasonable and philosophical that we can form on the 
subject. 

There is indeed a great variety of cases, in which the mind 
apparently exerts different acts of attention at once; but from the 
instances which have already been mentioned, of the astonishing 
rapidity of thought, it is obvious, that all this may be explained, 
without supposing these acts to be co-existent; and I may even 
venture to add, it may all be explained in the most satisfactory 
manner, without ascribing to our intellectual operations, a greater 
degree of rapidity than that with which we know from the fact that 
they are sometimes carried on. [The effect of 'practice in increasing 
this capacity of apparently attending to different things at once, 
renders this explanation of the phenomenon in question, more 
probable than any other.] 

The case of the equilibrist and rope-dancer already mentioned, 
is particularly favourable to this explanation; as it affords direct 
evidence of the possibility of the mind’s exerting different succes¬ 
sive acts in an interval of time so short as to produce the same 
sensible effect, as if they had been exerted at one and the same 

* I have added this explanation to obviate the question, What is meant by one object ? 


70 


PART I. 


CHAP. II. 


moment. In this case, indeed, the rapidity of thought is so remark¬ 
able, that if the different acts of the mina were not all necessarily 
accompanied with different movements of the eye, there can be no 
reason for doubting that the philosophers, whose doctrine I am 
now controverting, would have asserted, that they are all mathe¬ 
matically co-existent. 

Upon a question, however, of this sort, which does not admit of 
a perfectly direct appeal to the fact, I would by no means be under¬ 
stood to decide with confidence: and, therefore, I should wish the 
conclusions I am now to state, to be received as only conditionally 
established. They are necessary and obvious consequences of the 
general principle, “ that the mind can only attend to one thing at 
oncebut must stand or fall with the truth of that supposition. 

[It is commonly understood, I believe, that, in a concert 'of 
music , a good ear can attend to the different parts of the music 
separately, or can attend to them all at once, and feel the full effect 
of the harmony. If the doctrine, however, which I have endea¬ 
voured to establish, be admitted, it will follow, that in the latter 
case, the mind is constantly varying its attention from the one part 
of the music to the other, and that its operations are so rapid, as 
to give us no perception of an interval of time.] 

The same doctrine leads to some curious conclusions with respect 
to vision. Suppose the eye to be fixed in a particular position, and 
the picture of an object to be painted on the retina. Does the 
mind perceive the complete figure of the object at once, or is this 
perception the result of the various perceptions we have of the 
different points in the outline ? With respect to this question, the 
principles already stated lead me to conclude, that the mind does 
at one and the same time perceive every point in the outline of the 
object, (provided the whole of it be painted on the retina at the 
same instant), for perception, like consciousness, is an involuntary 
operation. As no two points, however, of the outline are in the 
same direction, every point, by itself, constitutes just as distinct an 
object of attention to the mind, as if it were separated by an interval 
of empty space from all the rest. If the doctrine therefore formerly 
stated be just, it is impossible for the mind to attend to more than 
one of these points at once; and as the perception of the figure of 
the object, implies a knowledge of the relative situation of the 
different points with respect to each other, we must conclude, that 
the perception of figure by the eye, is the result of a number of 
different acts of attention. These acts of attention, however, are 
performed with such rapidity, that the effect, with respect to us, is 
the same as if the perception were instantaneous. 

In farther confirmation of this reasoning, it may be remarked, 
that if the perception of visible figure were an immediate conse¬ 
quence of the picture on the retina, we should have, at the first 
glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides, as of a 
triangle or a square. The truth is, that when the figure is very 


OF ATTENTION. 


71 

simple, the process of the mind is so rapid, that the perception 
seems to be instantaneous; but when the sides are multiplied 
beyond a certain number, the interval of time necessary for these 
different acts of attention becomes perceptible. 

It may perhaps be asked, what I mean by a point in the outline 
of a figure, and what it is that constitutes this point one object of 
attention? The answer, I apprehend, is, that this point is the 
minimum visibile. If the point be less, we cannot perceive it: if it 
be greater, it is not all seen in one direction. 

If these observations be admitted, it will follow, that, without 
the faculty of memory, we could have had no perception of visible 
figure. 


CHAPTER III. 

OF CONCEPTION. 

I.— [By conception , I mean that power of the mind , zohich enables it 
to form a notion of an absent object of perception ; or of a sensation 
which it has formerly felt .] I do not contend that this is exclusively 
the proper meaning of the word, but I think that the faculty 
which I have now defined, deserves to be distinguished by an 
appropriated name. 

Conception is often confounded with other powers. When a 
painter makes a picture of a friend, who is absent or dead, he is 
commonly said to paint from memory: and the expression is suf¬ 
ficiently correct for common conversation. But in an analysis of the 
mind, there is ground for a distinction. The power of conception 
enables him to make the features of his friend an object of thought, 
so as to copy the resemblance; the power of memory recognises 
these features as a former object of perception. Every act of 
memory includes an idea of the past ; conception implies no idea of 
time -whatever *. 

According to this view of the matter, the word conception cor¬ 
responds to what was called by the schoolmen simple apprehension ; 
with this difference only, that they included, under this name, our 
apprehension of general propositions; whereas I should wish to 
limit the application of the word conception to our sensations, and 
the objects of our perceptions. Dr. Reid, in his Inquiry, substi¬ 
tutes the word conception instead of the simple apprehension of the 
schools, and employs it in the same extensive signification. I think 
it may contribute to make our ideas more distinct, to restrict its 
meaning:—and for such a restriction, we have the authority of 
philosophers in a case perfectly analogous. In ordinary language, 

* Shakespeare calls this power “ the mind’s eye.” 

Hamlet.—“ My father % Methinks I see my father. 

Horatio.—“ Where, my Lord ? 

Hamlet.—“In my mind’s eye, Horatio.”—Act i. Scene 4. 



72 


PART I. 


CHAP. III- 


we apply the same word perception, to the knowledge which we 
have by our senses of external objects, and to our knowledge of 
speculative truth: and yet an author would be justly censured, who 
should treat of these two operations of the mind under the same 
article of perception. I apprehend there is as wide a difference 
between the conception of a truth, and the conception of an absent 
object of sense, as between the perception of a tree, and the per¬ 
ception of a mathematical theorem. I have therefore taken the 
liberty to distinguish also the two former operations of the mind: 
[and under the article of conception , shall confine myself to that 
faculty whose province it is to enable us to form a notion of our 
past sensations, or of the objects of sense that ice have formerly 
perceived .] 

Conception is frequently used as synonymous with imagination. 
Dr. Reid says, that “ imagination, in its proper sense, signifies 
a lively conception of objects of sight.” “ This is a talent,” he 
remarks, “ of importance to poets and orators; and deserves a 
proper name, on account of its connexion with their arts.” He 
adds, that “ imagination is distinguished from conception, as a part 
from a whole.” 

I shall not inquire, at present, into the proper English meaning 
of the words conception and imagination . In a study such as this, 
so far removed from the common purposes of speech, some latitude 
may perhaps be allowed in the use of words; provided only we define 
accurately those ice employ , and adhere to our own definitions. 

The business of conception, according to the account I have given 
of it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt 
or perceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modifying our 
conceptions, by combining the parts of different ones together, so 
as to form new wholes of our own creation. I shall employ the 
word imagination to express this power; and, I apprehend, that 
this is the proper sense of the word; if imagination be the power 
which gives birth to the productions of the poet and the painter. 
This is not a simple faculty of the mind. It presupposes abstrac¬ 
tion, to separate from each other qualities and circumstances which 
have been perceived in conjunction ; and also judgment and taste 
to direct us in forming the combinations. If they are made wholly 
at random, they are proofs of insanity *. 

* In common discourse, we often use the phrase of thinking upon an object , to 
express what I here call, the conception of it. In the following passage, Shakespeare 
uses the former of these phrases, and the words imagination and apprehension as 
synonymous with each other. 

-Who can hold a fire in his hand. 

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 

By bare imagination of a feast \ 

Or wallow naked in December’s snow, 

By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat ? 

Oh no ! the apprehension of the good 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. 

K. Richard II. Act i. Scene 6. 


OF CONCEPTION. 


73 


The first remarkable fact which strikes us with respect to con¬ 
ception is, that we can conceive the objects of some senses much 
more easily than those of others. Thus we can conceive an absent 
visible object, such as a building that is familiar to us, much more 
easily than a particular sound, a particular taste, or a particular 
pain, which we have formerly felt. It is probable, however, that 
this power might be improved in the case of some of our senses. 
Few people, I believe, are able to form a very distinct conception 
of sounds ; and yet it is certain, that, by practice, a person may 
acquire a power of amusing himself with reading written music. 
And in the case of poetical numbers, it is universally known, that 
a reader may enjoy the harmony of the verse, without articulating 
the words, even in a whisper. [In such cases, I take for granted, 
that our pleasure arises from a very strong conception of the sounds 
which we have been accustomed to associate with particular written 
characters.] 

[The peculiarity in the case of visible objects , seems to arise from 
this; that when we think of a sound or of a taste, the object of 
our conception is one single detached sensation; whereas every 
visible object is complex ; and the conception which we form of it 
as a whole, is aided by the association of ideas.'] To perceive the 
force of this observation, it is necessary to recollect what was for¬ 
merly said on the subject of attention. As we cannot at one 
instant attend to every point of the picture of an object on the 
retina, so, I apprehend, we cannot at one instant form a conception 
of the whole of any visible object; but that our conception of 
the object, as a whole, is the result of many conceptions. The 
association of ideas connects the different parts together; and 
presents them to the mind in their proper arrangement; and the 
various relations which these parts bear to one another in point of 
situation, contribute greatly to strengthen the associations. It is 
some confirmation of this theory, that it is more easy to remember 
a succession of sounds, than any particular sound which we have 
heard detached and unconnected. 

The power of conceiving visible objects, like all other powers 
that depend on the association of ideas, may be wonderfully im¬ 
proved by habit. A person accustomed to drawing , retains a 

much more perfect notion of a building or of a landscape which he 
has seen, than any one who has never practised that art. A por¬ 
trait painter traces the form of the human body from memory, with 
as little exertion of attention, as he employs in writing the letters 
which compose his name. 

In the power of conceiving colours, too, there are striking differ¬ 
ences among individuals : and indeed, I am inclined to Suspect, 
that, in the greater number of instances, the supposed defects of 
sight in this respect, ought to be ascribed rather to a defect in the 
power of conception. One thing is certain, that we often see men 
who are perfectly sensible of the difference between two colours 


74 


PART I. 


CIIAP. III. 


when they are presented to them, who cannot give names to these 
colours, with confidence, when they see them apart; and are 
perhaps apt to confound the one with the other. Such men, it should 
seem, feel the sensation of colour like other men, when the object 
is present, but are incapable (probably in consequence of some early 
habit of inattention) to conceive the sensation distinctly when the 
object is removed. Without this power of conception, it is evidently 
impossible for them, however lively their sensations may be, to 
give a name to any colour ; for the application of the name supposes 
not only a capacity of receiving the sensation, but a power of com¬ 
paring it with one formerly felt. At the same time, I would not 
be understood by these observations to deny, that there are cases, 
in which there is a natural defect of the organ in the perception of 
colour. In some cases, perhaps the sensation is not felt at all; 
and in others, the faintness of the sensation may be one cause of 
those habits of inattention, from which the incapacity of conception 
has arisen. 

A talent for lively description, at least in the case of sensible 
objects, depends chiefly on the degree in which the describer 
possesses the power of conception. We may remark, even in 
common conversation, a striking difference among individuals in 
this respect. One man, in attempting to convey a notion of any 
object he has seen, seems to place it before him, and to paint from 
actual perception ; another, although not deficient in a ready elocu¬ 
tion, finds himself, in such a situation, confused and embarrassed 
among a number of particulars imperfectly apprehended, which 
crowd into his mind without any just order and connexion. Nor is 
it merely to the accuracy of our descriptions that this power is sub¬ 
servient : it contributes more than any thing else to render them 
striking and expressive to others, by guiding us to a selection of 
such circumstances as are most prominent and characteristical: 
insomuch that I think it may reasonably be doubted, if a person 
would not write a happier description of an object from the con¬ 
ception than from the actual perception of it. It has been often 
remarked, that the perfection of description does not consist in a 
minute specification of circumstances, but in a judicious selection of 
them; and that the best rule for making the selection is, to attend 
to the particulars that make the deepest impression on our own 
minds. When the object is actually before us, it is extremely 
difficult to compare the impressions which different circumstances 
produce; and the very thought of writing a description, would 
prevent the impressions which would otherwise take place. When 
we afterwards conceive the object, the representation of it we form 
to ourselves, however lively, is merely an outline ; and is made up 
of those circumstances, which really struck us most at the moment, 
while others of less importance are obliterated. The impression, 
indeed, which a circumstance makes on the mind, will vary con¬ 
siderably with the degree of a person’s t^ste ; but I am inclined to 


OF CONCEPTION. 


75 

think, that a man of lively conceptions, who paints from these, while 
his mind is yet warm from the original scene, can hardly fail to 
succeed in descriptive composition. 

II. Agreements and differences between Conception and Imagination. 
—The facts and observations which I have now mentioned, are 
applicable to conception, as distinguished from imagination. The 
two powers, however, are very nearly allied; and are frequently so 
blended, that it is difficult to say, to which of the two, some parti¬ 
cular operations of the mind are to be referred. There are also 
many general facts which hold equally with respect to both. The 
observations which follow, if they are well founded, are of this 
number, and might have been introduced with equal propriety 
under either article. I mention them here, as I shall have occasion 
to refer to them in the course of the following work, in treating of 
some subjects, which will naturally occur to our examination, before 
we have another opportunity of considering this part of our con¬ 
stitution. 

It is a common, I believe I may say a universal doctrine among 
logicians, that conception (or imagination, which is often used as 
synonymous with it) is attended with no belief of the existence 
of its object. “Perception,” says Dr. Reid, “ is attended with a 
belief of the present existence of its object: memory, with a belief 
of its past existence; but imagination is attended with no belief 
at all; and was therefore called by the school-men, apprehensio 
simplex 

It is with great diffidence, that I presume to call in question a 
principle, which has been so generally received; yet there are 
several circumstances which lead me to doubt of it. If it were a 
specifical distinction between perception and imagination, that the 
former is always attended with belief, and the latter with none ; 
then the more lively our imagination were of any object, and the 
more completely that object occupied the attention, the less would 
we be apt to believe its existence; for it is reasonable to think, 
that when any of our powers is employed separately from the rest, 
and there is nothing to withdraw the attention from it, the laws 
which regulate its operation will be most obvious to our observa¬ 
tion, and will be most completely discriminated from those which 
are characteristical of the other powers of the mind. So very 
different, however, is the fact, that it is matter of common remark, 
that when imagination is very lively , we are apt to ascribe to its objects 
a real existence , as in the case of dreaming or of madness; and we 
may add, in the case of those who, in spite of their own general 
belief of the absurdity of the vulgar stories of apparitions, dare not 
trust themselves alone with their own imaginations in the dark. 
That imagination is in these instances attended with belief, we 
have all the evidence that the nature of the thing admits of; for 
we feel and act in the same manner as we should do, if we believed 

* <( Simple apprehension.”—Essay I. On the Intellectual Powers, Chap. i. §. xi. et sec^» 


PA.KT I. 


CHAP. 111. 


76 


that the objects of our attention were real; which is the only proof 
that metaphysicians produce, or can produce, of the belief which 
accompanies perception. 

In these cases, the fact that I wish to establish is so striking, 
that it has never been called in question; but in most cases, the 
impression which the objects of imagination make on the mind is 
so momentary, and is so immediately corrected by the surrounding 
objects of perception, that it has not time to influence our conduct. 
Hence we are apt to conclude on a superficial view, that imagina¬ 
tion is attended with no belief; and the conclusion is surely just 
in most cases, if by belief we mean a permanent conviction which 
influences our conduct. But if the word be used in the strict logical 
sense, I am inclined to think, after the most careful attention, to 
what I experience in myself, that the exercise both of conception 
and imagination is always accompanied with a belief, that their 
objects exist*. 

&1F When a painter conceives the face and figure of an absent 
friend, in order to draw his picture, he believes (imagines or fancies) 
for the moment that his friend is before him. The belief, indeed, 
is only momentary; for it is extremely difficult, in our waking 
hours, to keep up a steady and undivided attention to any object 
we conceive or imagine ; and as soon as the conception or the ima- 


* As the foregoing reasoning, though satisfactory to myself, has not appeared equally 
so to some of my friends ; I should wish the reader to consider the remarks which I 
now offer, as amounting rather to a query, than to a decided opinion. 

May I take the liberty of adding, that one of the arguments which I have stated, in 
opposition to the common doctrine concerning imagination, appears to me to be 
authorized, in some measure, by the following reasoning of Dr. Reid’s on a different 
subject ? In considering those sudden bursts of passion, which lead us to wreak our 
vengeance upon inanimate objects, he endeavours to show, that we have, in such cases, 
a momentary belief that the object is alive. “I confess,” says he, “it seems to be 
impossible, that there should be resentment against a thing, which at that very moment, 
is considered as inanimate ; and consequently incapable either of intending hurt, or of 
being punished. There must, therefore, I conceive, be some momentary notion or con¬ 
ception, that the object of our resentment is capable of punishment.” 

In another passage, the same author remarks, that “ men may be governed, in their 
practice, by a belief, which, in speculation, they reject.” 

“ I knew a man,” says he, “ who was as much convinced as any man, of the folly of 
the popular belief of apparitions in the dark : yet he could not sleep in a room alone, 
nor go alone into a room in the dark. Can it be said, that his fear did not imply a 
belief of danger ? This is impossible. Yet his philosophy convinced him, that he was 
in no moi’e danger in the dark when alone, than with company. Here an unreasonable 
belief, which was merely a prejudice of the nursery, stuck so fast as to govern his con¬ 
duct, in opposition to his speculative belief as a philosopher, and a man of sense. 

“ There are few persons who can look down from the battlement of a very high 
tower without fear; while their reason convinces them, that they are in no more 
danger than when standing upon the ground.” 

These facts are easily explicable, on the supposition, that whenever the objects of 
imagination engross the attention wholly (which they may do, in opposition to any 
speculative opinion with respect to their non-existence), they produce a temporary 
belief of their reality. Indeed, in the last passage, Dr. Reid seems to admit this to be 
the case ; for, to say that a man who has a dread of apparitions, believes himself to be 
in danger when left alone in the dark, is to say, in other words, that he believes (for 
the time) that the objects of his imagination are real. [Is not the imagination or the 
mind disordered in such case ?] 


OF CONCEPTION. 


77 

gination is over, the belief which attended it is at an end. We 
find that we can recall and dismiss the objects of these powers at 
pleasure; and therefore we learn to consider them as creations of 
the mind, which have no separate and independent existence. 

The compatibility of such a speculative disbelief, as I have here 
supposed, of the existence of an object, with a contrary momentary 
belief, may perhaps be more readily admitted, if the following 
experiment be considered with attention. 

Suppose a lighted candle to be so placed before a concave 
mirror, that the image of the flame may be seen between the mirror 
and the eye of the observer. In this case, a person who is 
acquainted with the principles of optics, or who has seen the expe¬ 
riment made before, has so strong a speculative conviction of the 
non-existence of the object in that place where he sees its image, 
that he would not hesitate to put his finger to the apparent flame, 
without any apprehension of injury. 

Suppose, however, that in such a case it were possible for the 
observer to banish completely from his thoughts all the circum¬ 
stances of the experiment, and to confine his attention wholly to 
his perception; would he not believe the image to be a reality; 
and would he’not expect the same consequences from touching it, 
as from touching a real body in a state of inflammation ? If these 
questions be answered in the affirmative, it will follow; that the 
effect of the perception, while it engages the attention completely 
to itself, is to produce belief; and that the speculative disbelief, 
according to which our conduct in ordinary cases is regulated, is 
the result of a recollection of the various circumstances with which 
the experiment is accompanied. 

If, in such a case as I have now supposed, the appearance ex¬ 
hibited to us is of such a nature, as to threaten us with any imme¬ 
diate danger, the effect is the same as if we were to banish from 
our thoughts the circumstances of the experiment, and to limit our 
attention solely to what we perceive: for here the belief, which is 
the first effect of the perception, alarms our fears, and influences 
our conduct, before reflection has time to operate. In a very in¬ 
genious optical deception, which was lately exhibited in this city, 
the image of a flower was presented to the spectator; and when 
he was about to lay hold of it with his hand, a stroke was aimed 
at him by the image of a dagger. If a person who has seen this 
experiment is asked, in his cooler moments, whether or not he be¬ 
lieves the dagger which he saw to be real, he will readily answer 
in the negative; and yet the accurate statement of the fact un¬ 
doubtedly is, that the first and the proper effect of the perception 
is belief; and that the disbelief he feels, is the effect of subse¬ 
quent reflection. 

The speculative disbelief which we feel with respect to the illu¬ 
sions of imagination, I conceive to be analogous to our speculative 
disbelief of the existence of the object exhibited to the eye in this 


PART I. 


CIIAP. III. 


78 


optical deception; as our belief that the illusions of imagination 
are real, while that faculty occupies the mind exclusively, is analo¬ 
gous to the belief produced by the optical deception while the 
attention is limited to our perception, and is withdrawn from the 
circumstances in which the experiment is made.* 

These observations lead me to take notice of a circumstance with 
respect to the belief accompanying perception, which it appears to 
me necessary to state, in order to render Dr. Reid’s doctrine on 
that subject completely satisfactory. He has shown, that certain 
sensations are, by a law of our nature, accompanied with an irre¬ 
sistible belief of the existence of certain qualities of external 
objects. But this law extends no farther than to the present exist¬ 
ence of the quality; that is, to its existence while we feel the 
corresponding sensation. Whence is it, then, that we ascribe to the 
quality, an existence independent of our perception ? I apprehend 
we learn to do this by experience alone. We find that we cannot, 
as in the case of imagination, dismiss or recall the perception of an 
external object. If I open my eyes, I cannot prevent myself from 
seeing the prospect which is before me. I learn, therefore, to 
ascribe to the objects of my senses, not only an existence at the time 
I perceive them, but an independent and a permanent existence. 

It is a strong confirmation of this doctrine, that in sleep, when 
(as I shall endeavour afterwards to show) the influence of the will 
over the train of our thoughts is suspended, and when, of conse¬ 
quence, the time of their continuance in the mind is not regulated 
by us, we ascribe to the objects of imagination an independent and 
permanent existence, as we do when awake to the objects of per¬ 
ception. The same thing happens in those kinds of madness, in 
which a particular idea takes possession of the attention, and occu¬ 
pies it to the exclusion of every thing else. Indeed, [madness 
seems in many cases to arise entirely from a suspension of the 
influence of the will over the succession of our thoughts; in con¬ 
sequence of which, the objects of imagination appear to have an 
existence independent of our volition; and are therefore, agreeably 
to the foregoing doctrine, mistaken for realities.] (Vide note 
in page 76.) 

Numberless other illustrations of the same general fact occur to 
me; but the following is, I think, one of the most striking. I 
mention it, in preference to the rest, as it appears to me to connect 
the doctrine in question with some principles which are now 
universally admitted among philosophers. 

The distinction between the original and the acquired perceptions of 
sight , is familiarly known to every one who has the slightest ac¬ 
quaintance with the elements of optics. That this sense, prior to 

* It may appear to some readers rather trifling to add, and yet to others the remark 
may not be altogether superfluous, that it is not my intention to insinuate by the fore¬ 
going illustrations, that the relation between perception and imagination has the most 
distant analogy to that between the perception of the object, and the perception of its 
optical image. 


OF CONCEPTION. 


79 

experience, conveys to us the notion of extension in two dimensions 
only, and that it gives us no information concerning the distances at 
ichich objects are placed from the eye , are propositions which nobody, 
I presume, in the present state of science, will be disposed to con¬ 
trovert. In what manner we are enabled, by a comparison between 
the perceptions of sight and those of touch, to extend the province 
of the former sense to a variety of qualities originally perceived by 
the latter sense only, optical writers have explained at great length; 
but it is not necessary for my present purpose to enter into any 
particular details with respect to their reasonings on the subject. 
It is sufficient for me to remark, that, according to the received 
doctrine, the original perceptions of sight become, in consequence 
of experience , signs of the tangible qualities of external objects, and 
of the distances at which they are placed from the organ; and that, 
although the knowledge we obtain, in this manner, of these quali¬ 
ties and distances, seems, from early and constant habits, to be an 
instantaneous perception; yet, in many cases, it implies an exercise 
of the judgment, being founded on a comparison of a variety of 
different circumstances. 

From these principles, it is an obvious consequence, that the 
knowledge we obtain, by the eye, of the tangible qualities of bodies, 
involves the exercise of conception, according to the definition of 
that power which has already been given (§. i. of this chap.). In 
ordinary discourse, indeed, we ascribe this knowledge, on account 
of the instantaneousness with which it is obtained, to the power of 
perception ; but if the common doctrine on the subject be just, it 
is the result of a complex operation of the mind ; comprehending, 
first, the perception of those qualities, which are the proper and 
original objects of sight; and, secondly, the conception of those 
tangible qualities of which the original perceptions of sight are 
found from experience to be the signs. The notions, therefore, we 
form, by means of the eye, of the tangible qualities of bodies, and 
of the distances of these objects from the organ, are mere concep¬ 
tions ; strongly, and indeed indissolubly, associated, by early and 
constant habit, with the original perceptions of sight. 

When we open our eyes on a magnificent prospect, the various 
distances at which all its different parts are placed from the eye, 
and the immense extent of the whole scene before us, seem to be 
perceived as immediately, and as instantaneously, by the mind, as 
the coloured surface which is painted on the retina. The truth, 
however, unquestionably is, that this variety of distance, and this 
immensity of extent, are not objects of sense, but of conception ; and 
the notions we form of them when our eyes are open, differ from 
those we should form of them with our eyes shut, only in this, that 
they are kept steadily in the view of the mind, by being strongly 
associated with the sensations of colour, and with the original per¬ 
ceptions of sight. This observation will be the more readily 


80 


PART I. 


CHAP. III. 


admitted, if it be considered, that, by a skilful imitation of a natural 
landscape, in a common show-box , the mind may be led to form the 
same notions of variety of distance, and even of immense extent, as 
if the original scene were presented to our senses: and that, 
although, in this case, we have a speculative conviction that the 
sphere of our vision only extends to a few inches; yet so strong is 
the association between the original perceptions of sight, and the 
conceptions which they habitually produce, that .it is not possible 
for us, by any effort of our will, to prevent these conceptions from 
taking place. 

From these observations it appears, that when the conceptions 
of the mind are rendered steady and permanent, by being strongly 
associated with any sensible impression, they command our belief 
no less than our actual perceptions ; and, therefore, if it were pos¬ 
sible for us, with our eyes shut, to keep up, for a length of time, 
the conception of any sensible object, we should, as long as this 
effort continued, believe that the object was present to our senses. 

It appears to me to be no slight confirmation of these remarks, 
that although, in the dark, the illusions of imagination are much 
more liable to be mistaken for realities, than when their momentary 
effects on the belief are continually checked and corrected by the 
objects which the light of day presents to our perceptions ; yet, 
even total darkness is not so alarming to a person impressed with 
the vulgar stories of apparitions, as a faint and doubtful twilight, 
which affords to the conceptions an opportunity of fixing and pro¬ 
longing their existence, by attaching themselves to something which 
is obscurely exhibited to the eye. In like manner, when we look 
through a fog, we are frequently apt to mistake a crow for a man; 
and the conception we have, upon such an occasion, of the human 
figure, is much more distinct and much more steady, than it would 
be possible for us to form, if we had no sensible object before us; 
insomuch that when, on a more attentive observation, the crow 
shrinks to its own dimensions, we find it impossible, by any effort, 
to conjure up the phantom which a moment before we seemed to 
perceive. 

If these observations are admitted, the effects which exhibitions 
of fictitious distress produce on the mind, will appear less wonder¬ 
ful, than they are supposed to be. During the representation of a 
tragedy, I acknowledge, that we have a general conviction that the 
whole is a fiction; but, I believe, it will be found, that the violent 
emotions which are sometimes produced by the distresses of the 
stage, take their rise, in most cases, from a momentary belief, that 
the distresses are real. I say, in most cases; because, I acknow¬ 
ledge, that, independently of any such belief, there is something 
contagious in a faithful expression of any of the passions. 

The emotions produced by tragedy are, upon this supposition, 
somewhat analogous to the dread we feel when we look down from 


OF CONCEPTION. 


81 

the battlement of a tower.* In both cases, we have a general 
conviction that there is no ground for the feelings we experience; 
but the momentary influences of imagination are so powerful as to 
produce these feelings, before reflection has time to come to our 
relief. 


CHAPTER IV. 

OF ABSTRACTION. 

I. General Observations on this Faculty of the Mind .— The origin 
of appellatives, or, in other words, the origin of those classes of 
objects which, in the schools, are called genera , and species , has been 
considered by some philosophers as one of the most difficult pro¬ 
blems in metaphysics. The account of it which is given by Mr. 
Smith, in his Dissertation on the Origin of Languages, appears to 
me to be equally simple and satisfactory. 

“ The assignation,” says he, “ of particular names, to denote 
particular objects ; that is, the institution of nouns substantive; 
would probably be one of the first steps towards the formation of 
language. The particular cave, whose covering sheltered the 
savage from the weather ; the particular tree, whose fruit relieved 
his hunger; the particular fountain, whose water allayed his thirst; 
would first be denominated by the words, cave, tree, fountain; or 
by whatever other appellations he might think proper, in that pri¬ 
mitive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, when the more enlarged 
experience of this savage had led him to observe, and his necessary 
occasions obliged him to make mention of, other caves, and other 
trees, and other fountains; he would naturally bestow upon each 
of those new objects, the same name by which he. had been accusr 
tomed to express the similar object he was first acquainted with. 
And thus, those words, which were original^ the proper names of 
individuals, would each of them insensibly become the common 
name of a multitude.” f 

* With respect to the dread which we feel in looking down from the battlement of a 
tower, it is curious to remark the effects of habit in gradually destroying it. The 
manner in which habit operates in this case, seems to be by giving us a command over 
our thoughts, so as to enable us to withdraw our attention from the precipice before us, 
and direct it to any other object at pleasure. It is thus that the mason and the sailor 
not only can take precautions for their own safety, but remain completely masters of 
themselves in situations where other men, engrossed with their imaginary danger, 
would experience a total suspension of their faculties. Any strong passion which occu¬ 
pies the mind produces, for the moment, the same effect with habit. A person 
alarmed with the apprehension of fire, has been known to escape from the top of a 
house by a path which, at another time, he would have considered as impracticable ; 
and soldiers, in mounting a breach, are said to have sometimes found their way to the 
enemy, by a route which appeared inaccessible after their violent passions had 
subsided. 

f The same account of the progress of the mind in the formation of genera y is given 
by the Abbe de Condillac :— 

“ Un enfant appelle du nom d 'arlre le premier arbre que nous lui montrons. Un 

o 



82 


PART T. 


CHAP. IV. 


“ It is this application,”' he continues, “ of the name of an in¬ 
dividual to a great number of objects, whose resemblance naturally 
recalls the idea of that individual, and of the name which expresses 
it, that seems originally to have given occasion to the formation of 
those classes, and assortments, which, in the schools, are called 
genera and species; and of which the ingenious and eloquent 
Kousseau finds himself so much at a loss to account for the origin. 
What constitutes a species , is merely a number of objects, bearing a 
certain degree of resemblance to one another ; and, on that account, 
denominated by a single appellation, which may be applied to ex¬ 
press any one of them.”* 

This view of the natural progress of the mind, in forming classi¬ 
fications of external objects, receives some illustration from a fact 
mentioned by Captain Cook in his account of a small island called 
Wateeoo, which he visited in sailing from New Zealand to the 
Friendly Islands. “ The inhabitants,” says he, ff were afraid to 
come near our cows and horses, nor did they form the least con¬ 
ception of their nature. But the sheep and goats did not surpass 
the limits of their ideas; for they gave us to understand that they 
knew them to be birds. It will appear,” he adds, “ rather incre¬ 
dible, that human ignorance could ever make so strange a mistake, 
there not being the most distant similitude between a sheep or goat, 
and any winged animal. But these people seemed to know nothing 
of the existence of any other land animals, besides hogs, dogs, and 
birds. Our sheep and goats, they could see, were very different 
creatures from the two first, and therefore they inferred that they 
must belong to the latter class, in which they knew that there is a 
considerable variety of species.” I would add to Cook’s very judi¬ 
cious remarks, that the mistake of these islanders probably did not 
arise from their considering a sheep or a goat as bearing a more 
striking resemblance to a bird, than to the two classes of quadrupeds 
with which they were acquainted; but to the want of a generic 
word, such as quadruped , comprehending these two species; which 
men in their situation would no more be led to form, than a person 
who had only seen one individual of each species, would think of 
an appellative to express both, instead of applying a proper name 
to each. In consequence of the variety of birds, it appears, that 
they had a generic name comprehending all of them, to which it 
was not unnatural for them to refer any new animal they met with. 

The classification of different objects supposes a power of attend- 

second arbre qu’il voit ensuite lui rappelle la meme idee ; il lui donne le meme nom; 
de meme a un troisieme, a un quatrieme, et voila le mot d ’arbre donne d’abord a un 
individu, qui devient pour lui un nom de elasse ou de genre, une idee abstraite qui 
comprend tous les arbres en general.” 

[A child calls the first tree which we show him a tree. The next tree which he 
sees recalls the same idea to him : he gives it the same name. So it is with a third and 
a fourth ; and so the name tree, given at first to an individual, becomes with him the 
name of a class or genus, an abstract idea comprehending all trees whatever.] 

* Dissertation on the Origin of Languages, annexed to Mr. Smith’s Theory of Moral 
Sentiments. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


83 

ing to some of their qualities or attributes, without attending to 
the rest; for no two objects are to be found without some specific 
difference ; and no assortment or arrangement can be formed among 
things not perfectly alike, but by losing sight of their distinguish¬ 
ing peculiarities, and limiting the attention to those attributes which 
belong to them in common. [Indeed, without this power of attend¬ 
ing separately to things which our senses present to us in a state of 
union, .we never could have had any idea of number ; for, before we 
can consider different objects as forming a multitude, it is necessary 
that we should be able to apply to all of them one common name ; 
or, in other words, that we should reduce them all to the same 
genus.] The various objects, for example, animate and inanimate, 
which are, at this moment, before me, I may class and number in 
a variety of different ways, according to the view of them that I 
choose to take. I may reckon successively the number of sheep, 
of cows, of horses, of elms, of oaks, of beeches ; or I may first reckon 
the number of animals, and then the number of trees ; or I may at 
once reckon the number of all the organized substances which my 
senses present to me. But whatever be the principle on which 
my classification proceeds, it is evident that the objects numbered 
together, must be considered in those respects only in which they 
agree with each other; and that, if I had no power of separating 
the combinations of sense, I never could have conceived them as 
forming a plurality. 

Definition of Abstraction.— [This power of considering certain qua¬ 
lities or attributes of an object apart from the rest; or, as I would 
rather choose to define it, the power which the understanding has 
of separating the combinations which are presented to it, is distin¬ 
guished by logicians by the name of abstraction .] It has been 
supposed, by some philosophers, Locke particularly, (with what 
probability I shall not now inquire,) to form the characteristical 
attribute of a rational nature. That it is one of the most important 
of all our faculties, and very intimately connected with the exercise 
of our reasoning powers, is beyond dispute. And, I flatter myself, 
it will appear from the sequel of this chapter, how much the proper 
management of it conduces to the success of our philosophical 
pursuits, and of our general conduct in life. 

The subserviency of abstraction to the power of reasoning, and 
also, its subserviency to the exertions of a poetical or creative 
imagination, shall be afterwards fully illustrated. At present, it 
is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that as abstraction is the 
ground-work of classification, without this faculty of the mind we 
should have been perfectly incapable of general speculation, and 
all our knowledge must necessarily have been limited to individuals; 
and that some of the most useful branches of science, particularly 
the different branches of mathematics, in which the very subjects 
of our reasoning are abstractions of the understanding, could nevei 
have possibly had an existence. With respect to the subserviency 

G 2 


84- 


part i. 


CHAP. IV- 


of this faculty to poetical imagination, it is no less obvious, that, as 
the poet is supplied with all his materials by experience, and as 
his province is limited to combine and modify things which rea y 
exist, so as to produce new wholes of his own; so every exertion 
which he thus makes of his powers, presupposes the exeicise o 
abstraction in decomposing and separating actual combinations. 
And it was on this account that, in the chapter on conception, 
I was led to make a distinction between that faculty, which is 
evidently simple and uncompounded, and the power of imagination, 
which (at least in the sense in which I employ the word m these 
inquiries) is the result of a combination of various other powers. 

[I have introduced these remarks, in order to point out a dirier- 
ence between the (1) abstractions which are subservient to reasoning, 
and (£) those which are subservient to imagination. And, if I am not 
mistaken, it is a distinction which has not been sufficiently attended 
to by some writers of eminence.] In every instance in which ima¬ 
gination is employed in forming new wholes, by decompounding 
and combining the perceptions of sense, it is evidently necessary 
that the poet or the painter should be able to state to himself the 
circumstances abstracted, as separate objects of conception. . But 
this is by no means requisite in every case in which abstraction is 
subservient to the power of reasoning; for it frequently happens, 
that we can reason concerning one quality or property of an object 
abstracted from the rest, while, at the same time, we find it impos¬ 
sible to conceive it separately. Thus, I can reason concerning 
extension and figure, without any reference to colour; although it 
may be doubted, if a person possessed of sight can make extension 
and figure steady objects of conception, without connecting with 
them one colour or another. Nor is this always owing (as it is in 
the instance now mentioned) merely to the association of ideas; 
for there are cases, in which we can reason concerning things 
separately, which it is impossible for us to suppose any being so 
constituted as to conceive apart. Thus, we can reason concerning 
length, abstracted from any other dimension; although, surely, 
no understanding can make length, without breadth, an object of 
conception. And, by the way, this leads me to take notice of an 
error, which mathematical teachers are apt to commit, in explaining 
the first principles of geometry. By dwelling long on Euclid’s 
first definitions, they lead the student to suppose that they relate 
to notions which are extremely mysterious; and to strain his 
powers in fruitless attempts to conceive, what cannot possibly be 
made an object of conception. If these definitions were omitted, 
or very slightly touched upon, and the attention at once directed 
to geometrical reasonings, the student would immediately perceive, 
that although the lines in the diagrams are really extended in two 
dimensions, yet that the demonstrations relate only to one of them; 
and that the human understanding has the faculty of reasoning 
concerning things separately, which are always presented to us. 


OP ABSTRACTION. 


85 

both by our powers of perception and conception, in a state of 
union. Such abstractions, in truth, are familiar to the most illite¬ 
rate of mankind; and it is in this very way that they are insensibly 
formed. When a tradesman speaks of the length of a room, in 
contradistinction to its breadth; or when he speaks of the distance 
between any two objects, he forms exactly the same abstraction 
which is referred to by Euclid in his second definition, and which 
most of his commentators have thought it necessary to illustrate by 
prolix metaphysical disquisitions. 

I shall only observe farther, with respect to the nature and pro¬ 
vince of this faculty of the mind, that notwithstanding its essential 
subserviency to every act of classification, yet it might have been 
exercised, although we had only been acquainted with one indivi¬ 
dual object. tSW Although, for example, we had never seen but one 
rose, we might still have been able to attend to its colour, without 
thinking of its other properties. This has led some philosophers 
to suppose, that another faculty besides abstraction, to which they 
have given the name of generalization, is necessary to account for 
the formation of genera and species; and they have endeavoured 
to show, that although generalization without abstraction is impos¬ 
sible, yet that we might have been so formed as to be able to 
abstract without being capable of generalizing. The grounds of 
this opinion it is not necessary for me to examine, for any of the 
purposes which I have at present in view. 

II. Of the Objects of our Thoughts , when we employ general terms. 
—From the account which was given in a former chapter of the 
common theories of perception, it appears to have been a prevailing 
opinion among philosophers, that the qualities of external objects 
are perceived by means of images or species transmitted to the mind 
by the organs of sense; an opinion of which I already endeavoured 
to trace the origin, from certain natural prejudices suggested by the 
phenomena of the material world. The same train of thinking has 
led them to suppose that, in the case of all our other intellectual 
operations, there exist in the mind certain ideas distinct from the 
mind itself; and that these ideas are the objects about which our 
thoughts are employed. When I recollect, for example, the ap¬ 
pearance of an absent friend, it is supposed that the immediate 
object of my thoughts is an idea of my friend, which I at first 
received by my senses, and which I have been enabled to retain in 
the mind by the faculty of memory. When I form to myself any 
imaginary combination by an effort of poetical invention, it is sup¬ 
posed, in like manner, that the parts which I combine, existed 
previously in the mind, and furnish the materials on which it is the 
province of imagination to operate. It is to Dr. Reid we owe the 
important remark, that all these notions are wholly hypothetical; 
that it is impossible to produce a shadow of evidence in support of 
them; and that, even although we were to admit their truth, they 
would not render the phenomena in question more intelligible. 


86 


PART I. 


CIIAP. IV. 


According to his principles, therefore, we have no ground for 
supposing, that, in any one operation of the mind, there exists in 
it an object distinct from the mind itself ; and all the common 
expressions which involve such a supposition, are to be considered 
as unmeaning circumlocutions, which serve only to disguise from 
us the real history of the intellectual phenomena.* 

“ We are at a loss to know,” says this excellent philosopher, 
“ how we perceive distant objects; how we remember things past; 
how we imagine things that have no existence. Ideas in the mind 
seem to account for all these operations ; they are all by the means 
of ideas reduced to one operation : to a kind of feeling, or imme¬ 
diate perception of things present, and in contact with the per¬ 
cipient ; and feeling is an operation so familiar, that we think it 
needs no explanation, but may serve to explain other operations. 

“ But this feeling, or immediate perception, is as difficult to be 
comprehended, as the things which we pretend to explain by it. 
Two things may be in contact, without any feeling or perception; 
there must, therefore, be in the percipient, a power to feel, or to 
perceive. How this power is produced, and how it operates, is 
quite beyond the reach of our knowledge. As little can we know, 

* In order to prevent misapprehensions of Dr. Reid’s meaning in his reasonings 
against the ideal theory, it may be necessary to explain, a little more fully than I have 
done in the text, in what sense he calls in question the existence of ideas: for the 
meaning which this word is employed to convey in popular discourse, differs widely 
from that which is annexed to it by the philosophers whose opinion he controverts. 
This explanation I shall give in his own words :— 

“ In popular language, idea signifies the same thing as conception, apprehension, 
notion. To have an idea of anything, is to conceive it. To have a distinct idea, is to 
conceive it distinctly. To have no idea of it, is not to conceive it at all. When the 
word idea is taken in this popular sense, no man can possibly doubt whether he 
has ideas. 

“ According to the philosophical meaning of the word idea , it does not signify that 
act of the mind which we call thought, or conception, but some object of thought. Of 
these objects of thought, called ideas, different sects of philosophers have given very 
different accounts. 

“ Some have held them to be self-existent—Descartes ; others, to be in the Divine 
mind—Malebranche; others, in our own minds—Hook. And others, in the brain, or 
sensorium—Newton.”—Essay II. chap. xiv. §. xiii. 

“ The Peripatetic system of species and phantasms, as well as the Platonic system of 
ideas, is grounded upon this principle, that in every kind of thought, there must be 
some object that really exists ; in every operation of the mind, something to work 
upon. Whether this immediate object be called an idea with Plato, or a phantasm or 
species with Aristotle ; whether it be eternal and uncreated, or produced by the 
impressions of external objects, is of no consequence in the present argument.”— 
Ibid. Essay IV. chap. ii. §. xi. edit. 1843. 

“ So much is this opinion fixed in the minds of philosophers, that, I doubt not but 
it will appear to most, a very strange paradox, or rather a contradiction, that men 
should think without ideas. But this appearance of contradiction arises from the am¬ 
biguity of the word idea. If the idea of a thing means only the thought of it, which is 
the most common meaning of the word, to think without ideas, is to think without 
thought; which is undoubtedly a contradiction. But an idea, according to the defini¬ 
tion given of it by philosophers, is not thought, but an object of thought, which really 
exists, and is perceived,” &c.—Ibid. Essay IV. chap. ii. §. xii. edit. 1843. 

I have only to add, that when, in this work, I make use of the word idea in stating 
my own opinions, I employ it uniformly in the popular sense, and not in the philoso¬ 
phical sense, as now explained ; it would be better, perhaps, to avoid it altogether ; 
but I have found it difficult to do so, without adopting unusual modes of expression. 

I flatter myself that I have used it with due caution. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


87 


whether this power must be limited to things present, and in con¬ 
tact with us. Neither can any man pretend to prove, that the 
Being who gave us the power to perceive things present, may not 
give us the power, to perceive things distant, to remember things 
past, and to conceive things that never existed.” (Essays on the 
Intellectual Powers, Essay II. chap. xiv. §. xiv. edit. 1843.) 

In another part of this work. Dr. Reid has occasion to trace the 
origin of the prejudice which has led philosophers to suppose that 
in all the operations of the understanding, there must be an object 
of thought, which really exists while we think of it. His remarks 
on this subject, which are highly ingenious and satisfactory, are 
contained in his account of the different theories concerning con¬ 
ception. (Ibid. Essay IV. chap, ii.) 

As in all the ancient metaphysical systems it was taken for 
granted (probably from the analogy of our external perceptions), 
that every exertion of thought implies the existence of an object 
distinct from the thinking being ; it naturally occurred, as a very 
curious question. What is the immediate object of our attention, 
when we are engaged in any general spequlation ; or, in other words, 
what is the natur e of the idea corresponding to a general term ? 
SIT When I think of any particular object which I have formerly per¬ 
ceived, such as a particular friend, a particular tree, or a particular 
mountain, I can comprehend what is meant by a picture or repre¬ 
sentation of such objects : and therefore the explanation given by 
the ideal theory of that act of the mind which we formerly called 
conception, if not perfectly satisfactory, is at least not wholly unin¬ 
telligible. But what account shall we give, upon the principles of 
this theory, of the objects of my thoughts, when I employ the words 
friend, tree, mountain, as generic terms ? For, that all the things 
I have ever perceived are individuals ; and consequently, that the 
ideas denoted by general words (if such ideas exist), are not copied 
from any originals that have fallen under my observation, is not 
only self-evident, but almost an identical proposition. 

In answer to this question, the Platonists, and, at a still earlier 
period, the Pythagoreans, taught, that although these universal 
ideas are not copied from any objects perceivable by sense, yet that 
they have an existence independent of the human mind, and are no 
more to be confounded with the understanding, of which they are 
the proper objects, than material things are to be confounded with 
our powers of external perception; that as all the individuals which 
compose a genus must possess something in common ; and as it is 
in consequence of this that they belong to that genus, and are dis¬ 
tinguishable by the same name, this common thing forms the essence 
of each, and is the object of the understanding, when .we reason 
concerning the genus. They maintained also, that this common 
essence,* notwithstanding its inseparable union with a multitude 
of different individuals, is in itself one, and indivisible. 

* In this very imperfect sketch of the opinions of the ancients concerning universals, 


88 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


On most- of these points, the philosophy of Aristotle seems to have 
coincided very nearly with that of Plato. The language, however, 
which these philosophers employed on this subject was different, 
and gave to their doctrines the appearance of a wider diversity 
than probably existed between their opinions. While Plato was 
led by his passion for the marvellous and the mysterious, to insist 
on the incomprehensible union of the same idea or essence, with 
a number of individuals, without multiplication or division;* 
Aristotle, more cautious, and aiming at greater perspicuity, con¬ 
tented himself with saying, that all individuals are composed of 
matter and form; and that it is in consequence of possessing a 
common form, that different individuals belong to the same genus. 
But they both agreed, that as the matter, or the individual natures 
of objects, were perceived by sense ; so the general idea, or essence, 
or form, was perceived by the intellect; and that, as the attention 
of the vulgar was chiefly engrossed with the former, so the latter 
furnished to the philosopher the materials of his speculations. 

The chief difference between the opinions of Plato and Aristotle 
on the subject of ideas, related to the mode of their existence. That 
the matter of which all things are made, existed from eternity, was 
a principle which both admitted; but Plato farther taught, that of 
every species of things, there is an idea of form which also existed 
from eternity; and that this idea is the exemplar or model accord¬ 
ing to which the individuals of the species were made; whereas 
Aristotle held, that, although matter may exist without form, yet 
that forms could not exist without matter, f 


I have substituted, instead of the word idea, the word essence, as better fitted to con¬ 
vey to a modern reader the true import of Plato’s expressions. The word essentia is 
said to have been first employed by Cicero ; and it was afterwards adopted by the 
schoolmen, in the same sense in which the Platonists used the word idea. See Dr. 
Reid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers, Essay V. chap. v. §. hi. edit. 1843. 

* “ The idea of a thing,” says Plato, «is that which makes one of the many ; which, 
preserving the unity and integrity of its own nature, runs through and mixes with’ 
things infinite in number ; and yet, however multiform it may appear, is always the 
same : so that by it we find out and discriminate the thing, whatever shapes it may 
assume, and under whatever disguise it may conceal itself.”—Plato in Philebo ; quoted 
by the author of the Origin and Progress of Language, vol. i. p. 100, 2nd edit. 

t In this account of the difference between Plato and Aristotle on the subject of 
ideas, I have chiefly followed Brucker, whose very laborious researches with respect to 
this article of the history of philosophy, are well known. In stating the distinction ' 
however, 1 have confined myself to as general terms as possible ; as the subject is 
involved in much obscurity, and has divided the opinions of very eminent writers. The 
reader will find the result of Brucker’s inquiries, in his own words, in note f. 

The authority of Brucker, in this instance, has the more weight with me, as it coincides 
in the most material inspects with that of Dr. Reid. See his Essays on the Intellectual 
Powers of Man, and the conclusion of his Inquiry into the Human Mind. Edit. 1843. 

A very different account of Aristotle’s doctrine, in those particulars in which if is 
commonly supposed to differ from that of Plato, is given by two modern writers of irreat 
learning, whose opinions are justly entitled to much respect, from their familiar 
acquaintance with Aristotle’s latter commentators of the Alexandrian school See 
Origin and Progress of Language, vol. i., and Harris’s Hermes. 

It is of no consequence, for any of the purposes which I have at present in view 
what opinion we form on this much controverted point of philosophical history. In so 
far as the ideal theory was an attempt to explain the manner in which our general 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


89 

The doctrine of the Stoics concerning universals, differed widely 
from those both of Plato and Aristotle, and seems to have ap¬ 
proached to a speculation which is commonly supposed to be of a 
more recent origin, and which an eminent philosopher of the 
present age has ranked among the discoveries which do the greatest 
honour to modern genius. (Treatise of Human Nature, book i. 
part i. sect. 7.) 

Whether this doctrine of the Stoics coincided entirely with that 
of the Nominalists (whose opinions I shall afterwards endeavour to 
explain), or whether it did not resemble more a doctrine maintained 
by another set of schoolmen called Conceptualists, I shall not in¬ 
quire. The determination of this question is interesting only to 
men of erudition ; for the knowledge we possess of this part of the 
Stoical philosophy, is too imperfect to assist us in the farther pro¬ 
secution of the argument, or even to diminish the merit of those 
philosophers who have, in modern times, been led to similar con¬ 
clusions. (See note G.) 

As it is not my object, in this work, to enter into historical 
details, any farther than is necessary for illustrating the subjects of 
which I treat, I shall pass over the various attempts which were 
made by the Eclectic philosophers (a sect which arose at Alexandria, 
about the beginning of the third century), to reconcile the doctrines 
of Plato and Aristotle, concerning ideas. The endless difficulties, 
it would appear, to which their speculations led, induced at last 
the more cautious and modest inquirers to banish them entirely 
from Dialectics, and to content themselves with studying the 
arrangements or classifications of universals, which the ancient 
philosophers had made, without engaging in any metaphysical 
disquisitions concerning their nature. Porphyry, in particular, 
although he tells us that he has speculated much on this subject, 
yet, in his Introduction to Aristotle’s Categories, waves the con¬ 
sideration of it as obscure and intricate. On such questions as 
these: “ Whether genera and species exist in nature, or are only 
conceptions of the human mind; and (on the supposition that they 
exist in nature) whether they are inherent in the objects of sense, 
or disjoined from them ?” he declines giving any determination. 

This passage in Porphyry’s Introduction is an object of curiosity; 
as, by a singular concurrence of circumstances, it served to per¬ 
petuate the memory of a controversy from which it was the author’s 
intention to divert the inquiries of his readers. Amidst the dis¬ 
orders produced by the irruptions of the barbarians, the knowledge 
of the Greek tongue was almost entirely lost; and the studies of 
philosophers were confined to Latin versions of Aristotle’s Dia¬ 
lectics, and of Porphyry’s Introduction concerning the Categories. 
With men who had a relish for such disquisitions, it is probable 

speculations are carried on, it is agreed on all hands, that the doctrines of Plato and 
Aristotle were essentially the same; and, accordingly, what I have said on that sub¬ 
ject, coincides entirely with a passage which the reader will find in “ Origin and Pro¬ 
gress of Language,” vol. i. p. 38, 2nd edit. 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


90 


that the passage already quoted from Porphyry, would have a 
tendency rather to excite than to damp curiosity; and accordingly 
we have reason to believe, that the controversy to which it relates 
continued, during the dark ages, to form a favourite subject of 
discussion. The opinion which was prevalent was, (to use the 
scholastic language of the times,) that universal?; do not exist before 
things, nor after things, but in things; that is, (if I may be allowed 
to attempt a commentary upon expressions to which I do not pre¬ 
tend to be able to annex very precise notions,) universal ideas have 
not (as Plato thought) an existence separable from individual 
objects; and therefore, they could not have existed prior to them 
in the order of time; nor yet, (according to the doctrine of the 
Stoics,) are they mere conceptions of the mind, formed in conse¬ 
quence of an examination and comparison of particulars ; but these 
ideas or forms are from eternity united inseparably with that matter 
of which things consist; or, as the Aristotelians sometimes express 
themselves, the forms of things are from eternity immersed in 
matter. The reader will, I hope, forgive me for entering into these 
details, not only on account of their connexion with the observations 
which are to follow; but as they relate to a controversy which, for 
many ages, employed all the ingenuity and learning in Europe ; 
and which, therefore, however frivolous in itself, deserves the 
attention of philosophers, as one of the most curious events which 
occurs in the history of the human mind. 

Such appears to have been the prevailing opinion concerning the 
nature of universals, till the eleventh century; when a new doc¬ 
trine, or (as some authors think) a doctrine borrowed from the 
school of Zeno, was proposed by Roscelinus ; (see note h.) and 
soon after very widely propagated over Europe by the abilities and 
eloquence of one of his scholars, the celebrated Peter Abelard. 
[According to these philosophers, there are no existences in nature 
corresponding to general terms; and the objects of our attention 
in all our general speculations are not ideas, but words.] 

[In consequence of this new doctrine, the schoolmen gradually 
formed themselves into two sects: one of which attached itself to 
the opinions of Roscelinus and Abelard: while the other adhered 
to the principles of Aristotle. Of these sects, the former are known 
in literary history by the name of the Nominalists; the latter by 
that of the Realists.] 

As it is with the doctrine of the Nominalists that my own 
opinion on this subject coincides; and as I propose to deduce from 
it some consequences, which appear to me important, I shall endea¬ 
vour to state it as clearly and precisely as I am able: pursuing, 
however, rather the train of my own thoughts, than guided by the 
reasons of any particular author. 

I formerly explained in what manner the words which, in the 
infancy of language, were proper names, became gradually appel¬ 
latives ; in consequence of which extension of their signification, 


• OF ABSTRACTION. 9] 

they would express, when applied to individuals, those qualities 
only which are common to the whole genus. Now, it is evident, 
that, with respect to individuals of the same genus, there are two 
classes of truths; the one, particular truths relating to each indi¬ 
vidual apart, and deduced from a consideration of its peculiar and 
(istinguishing properties; the other, general truths, deduced from 
a consideration of their common qualities; and equally applicable to 
all oi them. Such truths may be conveniently expressed, by means 
oi general terms; so as to form propositions, comprehending under 
them as many particular truths, as there are individuals compre¬ 
hended under the general terms. It is farther evident, that there 
are two ways in which such general truths may be obtained; either 
by fixing the attention on one individual, in such a manner that 
oui leasoning may involve no circumstances but those which are 
common to the whole genus; or, (laying aside entirely the con¬ 
sideration of things,) by means of the general terms with which 
language supplies us. In either of these cases, our investigations 
must necessarily lead us to general conclusions. In the first case; 
our. attention being limited to those circumstances, in which the 
subject of our reasoning resembles all other individuals of the same 
genus, whatever we demonstrate with respect to this subject must 
be true of every other to which the same attributes belong. In 
the second case; the subject of our reasoning being expressed by 
a generic word, which applies in common to a number of indivi¬ 
duals, the conclusion we form must be as extensive in its application, 
as the name of the subject is in its meaning. [The former process 
is analogous to the practice of geometers , who, in their most general 
reasonings, direct the attention to a particular diagram: the latter, 
to that of algebraists , who carry on their investigations by means of 
symbols.*] In cases of this last sort, it may frequently happen, 
from the association of ideas, that a general word may recall some 
one individual to which it is applicable: but this is so far from 
being necessary to the accuracy of our reasoning, that, excepting 
in some cases, in which it may be useful to check us in the abuse 
of general terms, it always has a tendency, more or less, to mislead 
us from the truth. As the decision of a judge must necessarily be 
impartial, when he is only acquainted with the relations in which 
the parties stand to each other, and when their names are supplied 
by letters of the alphabet, or by the fictitious names of Titius, 
Caius, and Sempronius; so, in every process of reasoning, the 
conclusion we form is most likely to be logically just, when the 

* These two methods of obtaining general truths proceed on the same principles ; 
and are, in fact, much less different from each other, than they appear to be at first 
view. When we carry on a process of general reasoning, by fixing our attention on a 
particular individual of a genus, this individual is to be considered merely as a sign or 
representative, and differs from any other sign only in this, that it bears a certain 
resemblance to the things it denotes. The straight lines which are employed in the 
fifth book of Euclid to represent magnitudes in general, differ from the algebraical 
expressions of these magnitudes, in the same respects in which picture-writing differs 
from arbitrary characters. 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


92 


attention is confined solely to signs; and when the imagination does 
not present to it those individual objects which may warp the 
judgment by casual associations. 

To these remarks, it may not be improper to add, that, although 
in our speculations concerning individuals, it is possible to carry 
on processes of reasoning, by fixing our attention on the objects 
themselves, without the use of language ; yet it is als6 in our power 
to accomplish the same end, by substituting for these objects, w r ords, 
or other arbitrary signs.* The difference between the employment 
of language in such cases, and in our speculations concerning 
classes or genera, is, that in the former case the use of words is, in 
a great measure, optional; whereas, in the latter, it is essentially 
necessary. This observation deserves our attention the more, that, 
if I am not mistaken, it has contributed to mislead some of the 
Rjealists; by giving rise to an idea, that the use of language, in 
thinking about universals, however convenient, is not more neces¬ 
sary than in thinking about individuals. 

[According to this view of the process of the mind, in carrying 
on general speculations, that idea which the ancient philosophers 
considered as the essence of an individual, is nothing more than 
the particular quality or qualities in which it resembles other indi¬ 
viduals of the same class; and in consequence of which, a generic 
name is applied to it.] It is the possession of this quality, that 
entitles the individual to the generic appellation: and which, 
therefore, may be said to be essential to its classification with that 
particular genus ; but as all classifications are to a certain degree 
arbitrary, it does not necessarily follow, that it is more essential to 
its existence as an individual, than various other qualities which 
we are accustomed to regard as accidental. In other words, (if I 
may borrow the language of modern philosophy,) this quality forms 
its nominal, but not its real essence. 

These observations will, I trust, be sufficient for the satisfaction 
of such of my readers as are at all conversant with philosophical 
inquiries. For the sake of others, to whom this disquisition may 
be new, I have added the following illustrations. 

Defect of Syllogistic reasoning .—I shall have occasion to examine, 
in another part of my work, how far it is true, (as is commonly 
believed,) that every process of reasoning may be resolved into a 
series of syllogisms; and to point out some limitations, with which, 
I apprehend, it is necessary that this opinion should be received. 
As it would lead me, however, too far from my present subject, to 
anticipate any part of the doctrine which I am then to propose, I 
shall in the following remarks, proceed on the supposition, that the 
syllogistic theory is well founded; a supposition which, although 
not strictly agreeable to truth, is yet sufficiently accurate for the 
use which I am now to make of it. Take then, any step of one of 
Euclid’s demonstrations; for example, the first step of his first pro¬ 
position, and state it in the form of a syllogism :—“ All straight 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


93 


lines, drawn from the centre of a circle to the circumference, are 
equal to one another.” “ But A B, and C D, are straight lines, 
drawn from the centre of a circle to the circumference. Therefore’ 
A B is equal to C D.” It is perfectly manifest, that, in order to’ 
feel the force of this conclusion, it is by no means necessary, that I 
should annex any particular notions to the letters A B, or C D, 
or that I should comprehend what is meant by equality , or by a 
circle, its centre , and its circumference. Every person must be satis¬ 
fied, that the truth of the conclusion is necessarily implied in that 
of the two premises ; whatever the particular things may be to 
which these premises may relate. In the following syllogism, too: 
“ 7 -“All men must die:—Peter is a man;—therefore Peter’must 
die —the evidence of the conclusion does not in the least depend 
on the particular notions I annex to the words man and Peter; but 
would be equally complete, if we were to substitute instead of 
them, two letters of the alphabet, or any other insignificant charac¬ 
ters. “ All X’s must die ;—Z is an X; therefore Z must die_ 

is a syllogism which forces the assent no less than the former.’ It 
is farther obvious, that this syllogism would be equally conclusive 
if, instead of the word die , I were to substitute any other verb that 
the language contains; and, that, in order to perceive the justness 
of the inference, it is not even necessary that I should understand 
its meaning. 

In general, it might be easily shown, that all the rules of logic, 
with respect to syllogisms, might be demonstrated, without having 
recourse to any thing but letters of the alphabet; in the same mam 
ner, (and I may add, on the very same principles,) on which the 
algebraist demonstrates, by means of these letters, the various rules 
for transposing the terms of an equation. 

From what has been said, it follows, that [the assent we give to 
the conclusion of a syllogism does not result from any examination 
of the notions expressed by the different propositions of which it is 
composed, but is an immediate consequence of the relations in 
which the words stand to each other.] The truth is, that in every 
syllogism, the inference is only a particular instance of the general 
axiom, that whatever is true universally of any sign, must also be 
true of every individual which that sign can be employed to express. 
Admitting, therefore, that every process of reasoning may be re¬ 
solved into a series of syllogisms, it follows, that this operation of 
the mind furnishes no proof of the existence of any thing corre¬ 
sponding to general terms, distinct from the individuals to which 
these terms are applicable. 

These remarks, I am very sensible, do, by no means, exhaust the 
subject; for there are various modes of reasoning, to which the 
syllogistic theory does not apply. But, in all of them, without 
exception, it will be found on examination, that [the evidence of 
our conclusions appears immediately from the consideration of the 
words in which the premises are expressed; without any reference 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


94 


to the things which they denote.] The imperfect account which is 
given of deductive evidence, in the received systems of logic, 
makes it impossible for me, in this place, to prosecute the subject 
any farther. 

After all that I have said on the use of language as an instrument 
of reasoning, I can easily foresee a variety of objections, which may 
occur to the doctrine I have been endeavouring to establish. But, 
without entering into a particular examination of these objections, 
I believe I may venture to affirm, that most, if not all, of them take 
their rise from confounding reasoning, or deduction,, properly so 
called, with certain other intellectual processes, which it is necessary 
for us to employ in the investigation of truth. That it is frequently 
of essential importance to us, in our speculations, to withdraw our 
attention from words, and to direct it to the things they denote, I 
am very ready to acknowledge. All that I assert is, that, in so far 
as our speculations consist of that process of the mind which is 
properly called reasoning, they may be carried on by words alone; 
or, which comes to the same thing, that every process of reasoning 
is perfectly analogous to an algebraical operation. What I mean 
by “ the other intellectual processes distinct from reasoning, which 
it is necessary for us sometimes to employ in the investigation of 
truth,” will, I hope, appear clearly from the following remarks. 

In algebraical investigations, it is well known, that the practical 
application of a general expression, is frequently limited by the 
conditions which the hypothesis involves; and that, in consequence 
of a want of attention to this circumstance, some mathematicians 
of the first eminence have been led to adopt the most paradoxical 
and absurd conclusions. Without this cautious exercise of the 
judgment, in the interpretation of the algebraical language, no 
dexterity in the use of the calculus will be sufficient to preserve 
us from error. Even in algebra, therefore, there is an application 
of the intellectual powers perfectly distinct from any process of 
reasoning; and which is absolutely necessary for conducting us to 
the truth. 

In geometry, we are not liable to adopt the same paradoxical 
conclusions, as in algebra; because the diagrams, to which our 
attention is directed, serve as a continual check on our reasoning 
powers. These diagrams exhibit to our very senses, a variety of 
relations among the quantities under consideration, which the 
language of algebra is too general to express; in consequence of 
which, we are not conscious of any effort of the judgment distinct 
from a process of reasoning. As every geometrical investigation, 
however, may be expressed algebraically, it is manifest, that in 
geometry, as well as in algebra, there is an exercise of the intel¬ 
lectual powers, distinct from the logical process; although, in the 
former science, it is rendered so easy, by the use of diagrams, as 
to escape our attention. 

The same source of error and of absurdity, which exists in alge- 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


95 

bra, is to be found, in a much greater degree, in the other branches 
of knowledge. Abstracting entirely from the ambiguity of language, 
and supposing also our reasonings to be logically accurate, it would 
still be necessary for us, from time to time, in all our speculations, 
to lay aside the use of words, and to have recourse to particular 
examples, or illustrations, in order to correct and to limit our gene¬ 
ral conclusions. To a want of attention to this circumstance, a 
number of the speculative absurdities which are current in the 
world, might, I am persuaded, be easily traced. 

Besides, however, this source of error, which is in some degree 
common to all the sciences, there is a great variety of others, from 
which mathematics are entirely exempted; and which perpetually 
tend to lead us astray in our philosophical inquiries. Of these, the 
most important is, that ambiguity in the signification of words , which 
renders it so difficult to avoid employing the same expressions in 
different senses, in the course of the same process of reasoning. 
This source of mistake, indeed, is apt, in a much greater degree, 
to affect our conclusions in metaphysics, morals, and politics, than 
in the different branches of natural philosophy ; but if we except 
mathematics, there is no science whatever, in which it has not a 
very sensible influence. In algebra, we may proceed with perfect 
safety through the longest investigations, without carrying our 
attention beyond the signs, till we arrive at the last result. But in 
the other sciences, excepting in those cases in which we have fixed 
the meaning of all our terms by accurate definitions, and have 
rendered the use of these terms perfectly familiar to us by very 
long habit, it is but seldom that we can proceed in this manner 
without danger of error. In many* cases, it is necessary for us to 
keep up, during the whole of our investigations, a scrupulous and 
constant attention to the signification of our expressions; and, in 
most cases, this caution in the use of words, is a much more difficult 
effort of the mind, than the logical process. But still this furnishes 
no exception to the general doctrine already delivered; for the 
attention we find it necessary to give to the import of our words, 
arises only from the accidental circumstance of their ambiguity, and 
has no essential connexion with that process of the mind, which is 
properly called reasoning ; and which consists in the inference of a 
conclusion from premises. In all the sciences, this process of the 
mind is perfectly analogous to an algebraical operation ; or, in other 
words, (when the meaning of our expressions is once fixed by defi¬ 
nitions,) it may be carried on entirely by the use of signs, without 
attending, during the time of the process, to the things signified. 

The conclusion to which the foregoing observations lead, appears 
to me to be decisive of the question, with respect to the objects of 
our thoughts when we employ general terms ; for if it be granted, 
that words, even when employed without any reference to their 
particular signification, form an instrument of thought sufficient for 
all the purposes of reasoning ; the only shadow of an argument in 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


96 


proof of the common doctrine on the subject, (I mean that which is 
founded on the impossibility of explaining this process of the mind 
on any other hypothesis,) falls to the ground. Nothing less, surely, 
than a conviction of this impossibility, could have so long reconciled 
philosophers to an hypothesis unsupported by any direct evidence ; 
and acknowledged, even by its warmest defenders, to involve much 
difficulty and mystery. 

It does not fall within my plan to enter, in this part of my work, 
into a particular consideration of the practical consequences which 
follow from the foregoing doctrine. I cannot, however, help remark¬ 
ing, the importance of cultivating, on the one hand, a talent for 
ready and various illustration; and, on the other, a habit of reason¬ 
ing by means of general terms. The former talent is necessary, 
not only for correcting and limiting our general conclusions, but for 
enabling us to apply our knowledge, when occasion requires, to its 
real practical use. The latter serves the double purpose, of pre¬ 
venting our attention from being distracted during the course of 
our reasonings, by ideas which are foreign to the point in question, 
and of diverting the attention from those conceptions of particular 
objects and particular events which might disturb the judgment, by 
the ideas and feelings which are apt to be associated with them, in 
consequence of our own casual experience. 

This last observation points out to us, also, one principal foun¬ 
dation of the art of the orator. As his object is not so much to 
inform and to satisfy the understandings of his hearers, as to force 
their immediate assent; it is frequently of use to him to clothe his 
reasonings in that specific and figurative language, which may either 
awaken in their minds associations favourable to his purpose, or 
may divert their attention from a logical examination of his argu¬ 
ment. A process of reasoning so expressed, affords at once an 
exercise to the judgment, to the imagination, and to the passions; 
and is apt, even when loose and inconsequential, to impose on the 
best understandings.. 

[It appears farther, from the remarks which have been made, 
that the perfection of philosophical language , considered either (1) as an 
instrument of thought, or (£) as a medium of communication with 
others, consists in the use of expressions which, from their generality, 
have no tendency to awaken the powers of conception, and imagin¬ 
ation ; or, in other words, it consists in its approaching , as nearly as 
possible, in its nature, to the language of algebra .] And hence the 
effects which long habits of philosophical speculation have in weaken¬ 
ing, by disuse, those faculties of the mind, which are necessary for 
the exertions of the poet and the orator ; and of gradually forming 
a style of composition, which they who read merely for amusement 
are apt to censure for a want of vivacity and of ornament. 

III. Remarks on the Opinions of some modern Philosophers on the 
subject of the foregoing Section .—After the death of Abelard, through 
w'hose abilities and eloquence the sect of Nominalists had enjoyed, 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


for a few years, a very splendid triumph, the system of the Realists 
began to revive ; and it was soon so completely re-established in 
the schools, as to prevail, with little or no opposition, till the four¬ 
teenth century. What the circumstances were, which led Philo¬ 
sophers to abandon a doctrine, which seems so strongly to recom¬ 
mend itself by its simplicity, it is not very easy to conceive. 
Probably the heretical opinions, which had subjected both Abelard 
and Roscelinus to the censure of the church, might create a preju¬ 
dice also against their philosophical principles; and probably, too, 
the manner in which these principles were stated and defended, was 
not the clearest, nor the most satisfactory.* The principal cause, 
however, I am disposed to think, of the decline of the sect of 
Nominalists, was their want of some palpable example, by means 
of which they might illustrate their doctrine. It is by the use 
which algebraists make of the letters of the alphabet in carrying on 
their operations, that Leibnitz and Berkeley have been most suc¬ 
cessful in explaining the use of language as an instrument of 
thought: and, as in the twelfth century the algebraical art was 
entirely unknown, Roscelinus and Abelard must have been reduced 
to the necessity of conveying their leading idea by general circum¬ 
locutions ; and must have found considerable difficulty in stating it 
in a manner satisfactory to themselves; a consideration, which, if 
it accounts for the slow progress which this doctrine made in the 
world, places in the more striking light the genius of those men 
whose sagacity led them, under so great disadvantages, to approach 
to a conclusion so just and philosophical in itself, and so opposite 
to the prevailing opinions of their age. 

In the fourteenth century, this sect seems to have been almost 
completely extinct; their doctrine being equally reprobated by the 
two great parties which then divided the schools, the followers of 
Duns Scotus and of Thomas Aquinas. These, although they dif¬ 
fered in their manner of explaining the nature of universals, and 
opposed each other’s opinions with much asperity, yet united in 
rejecting the doctrine of the Nominalists, not only as absurd, but 
as leading to the most dangerous consequences. At last, William 
Occam, a native of England, and a scholar of Duns Scotus, revived 
the ancient controversy, and, with equal ability and success, vindi¬ 
cated the long-abandoned philosophy of Roscelinus. From this 
time the dispute was carried on with great warmth in the univer¬ 
sities of France, of Germany, and of England, more particularly in 
the two former countries, where the sovereigns were led, by some 
political views, to interest themselves deeply in the contest, and 
even to employ the civil power in supporting their favourite opi¬ 
nions. The emperor Lewis of Bavaria, in return for the assistance 
which, in his disputes with the Pope f, Occam had given to him by 

* The great argument which the Nominalists employed against the existence of 
universals, was : “ Entia non sunt multiplicanda prseter necessitatem.” [The number 
of things should not be increased unnecessarily.] 

f Occam, we are told, was accustomed to say to the Emperor : “ Tu me defendas 

H 


98 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


his writings, sided with the Nominalists. Lewis the Eleventh of 
France, on the other hand, attached himself to the Realists, 
and made their antagonists the objects of a cruel persecution.— 
(Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History.) 

The Protestant Reformation, at length, involved men of learning 
in discussions of a more interesting nature; but even the zeal of 
theological controversy could hardly exceed that with which the 
Nominalists and Realists had, for some time before, maintained 
their respective doctrines. “ Clamores primum ad ravim,” says an 
author who had himself been an eye-witness of these literary dis¬ 
putes, “ hinc improbitas, sannse, mince, convitia, dum luctantur, et 
uterque alterum tentat prosternere: consumtis verbis venitur ad 
pugnos, ad veram luctam ex ficta et simulata. Quin etiam, quae 
contingunt in palaestra, illic non desunt, colaphi, alapae, consputio, 
calces, morsus, etiam quae jam supra leges palaestrae, fustes, ferrum, 
saucii multi, nonnunquam occisi.”—(Ludovicus Vives*.) That 
this account is not exaggerated, we have the testimony of no less an 
author than Erasmus, who mentions it as a common occurrence : 
“ Eos usque ad pallorem, usque ad convitia, usque ad sputa, non¬ 
nunquam et usque ad pugnos invicem digladiari, alios ut Nominales, 
alios ut Reales, loqui.” + 

The dispute to which the foregoing observations relate, although 
for some time after the Reformation interrupted by theological dis¬ 
quisitions, has been since occasionally revived by different writers, 
and, singular as it may appear, it has not yet been brought to a 
conclusion in which all parties are agreed. The names, indeed, of 
Nominalists and Realists exist no longer : but the point in dispute 
between these two celebrated sects, coincides precisely with a ques¬ 
tion which has been agitated in our own times, and which has led 
to one of the most beautiful speculations of modern philosophy. 

Of the advocates who have appeared for the doctrine of the 
Nominalists, since the revival of letters, the most distinguished are 
Hobbes, Berkeley, and Hume. The first has, in various parts of 
his works, reprobated the hypothesis of the Realists, and has stated 

gladio, et ego te defendant calamo.” [Let you defend me with your sword, and I will 
defend you with my pen.]—Brucker, vol. iii. p. 848. 

* [First clamour even to hoarseness, then grossness, insulting grimaces threats 
abusive language, whilst they struggle, and attempt to prostrate each other. When 
words have done their worst, they have recourse to fists, and actual wrestling in place of 
counterfeit. So that what takes place in the wrestling-schools are not excluded ; they 
buffet, cuff, spit at each other, kick and bite : they even go beyond what is allowed in 
such conflicts, and make use of clubs and weapons, so that many are wounded and 
some killed outright. ] 

fThey proceed in their contests to paleness, to scolding, to spitting, ay, they even 
attack each other with their fists ; some speak the language of Nominalists, some of 
Realists. 

“ The Nominalists procured the death of John Huss, who was a Realist; and in 
their Letter to Lewis, King of France, do not pretend to deny that he fell a victim to 
the resentment of their sect. The Realists, on the other hand, obtained, in the year 
14/9, the condemnation of John de Wesalia, who was attached to the party of the 
Nominalists. These contending sects carried their fury so far as to charge each other 
with ‘ the sin against the Holy Ghost.’ ”—Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


99 

the opinions of their antagonists with that acuteness, simplicity, 
and precision, which distinguish all his writings.* The second, 
considering (and, in my opinion, justly) the doctrines of the ancients 
concerning universals, in support of which so much ingenuity had 
been employed by the Realists, as the great source of mystery and 
error in the abstract sciences, was at pains to overthrow it com¬ 
pletely, by some very ingenious and original speculations of his 
own. Mr. Hume’sf view of the subject, as he himself acknow¬ 
ledges, does not differ materially from that of Berkeley; whom, by 
the way, he seems to have regarded as the author of an opinion, of 
which he was only an expositor and defender, and which, since the 
days of Roscelinns and Abelard, has been familiarly known in all 
the universities of Europe. X 

Notwithstanding, however, the great merit of these writers in 
defending and illustrating the system of the Nominalists, none of 
them seem to me to have been fully aware of the important conse¬ 
quences to which it leads. The Abbe de Condillac was, I believe, 
the first (if we except, perhaps, Leibnitz), who perceived that, if 
this system be true, a talent for reasoning must consist, in a great 
measure, in a skilful use of language as an instrument of thought. 
The most valuable of his remarks on this subject are contained in 
a treatise, De V Art de Penser , which forms the fourth volume of his 
“ Cours d’Etude.” 

* “ The universality of one name to many things, hath been the cause that men think 
the things themselves are universal ; and so seriously contend, that besides Peter and 
John, and all the rest of the men that are, have been, or shall be, in the world, there 
is yet something else that we call Man, viz., Man in general; deceiving themselves, by 
taking the universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth. For if one 
should desire the painter to make him the picture of a man, which is as much as to 
say, of a man in general, he meaneth no more, but that the painter should choose what 
man hepleasetli to draw, which must needs be some of them that are, or have been, or 
may be : none of which are universal. But when he would have him to draw the pic¬ 
ture of the king, or any particular person, he limiteth the painter to that one person 
he chooseth. It is plain, therefoi’e, that there is nothing universal but names, which 
are therefore called indefinite, because we limit them not ourselves, but leave them to 
be applied by the hearer ; whereas a singular name is limited and restrained to one of 
the many things it signifieth ; as when we say, this man, pointing to him, or giving 
him his proper name, or by some such other way.”—Hobbes’ Tripos, chap. v. sect. 6. 

f “ A very material question has been started concerning abstract or general ideas, 
Whether they be general or particular in the mind’s conception of them ? A great 
philosopher has disputed the received opinion in this particular ; and has asserted, 
that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term, which 
gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall, upon occasion, other 
individuals, which are similar to them. As I look upon this to be one of the greatest 
and most valuable discoveries that have been made of late years in the republic of 
letters, I shall here endeavour to confirm it by some arguments, which I hope will put 
it beyond all doubt and controversy.”—Treatise of Human Nature, book i. part i. sect. 7. 

+ Leibnitz, too, has declared himself a partisan of this sect, in a dissertation “ De 
Stilo Philosophico Marii Nizolii.” [Concerning the Philosophical Style of Marcus 
Nizolius] This Nizolius published a book at Parma, in the year 1553, entitled, “ De 
Veris Principiis et vera Ratione Philosophandi,” [On the Proper Principles and Mode 
of Reasoning,] in which he opposed several of the doctrines of Aristotle, particularly 
his opinion concerning universals. An edition of this work, with a Preface and Notes, 
was published by Leibnitz at Frankfort, in the year 1670. The Preface and Notes 
are to be found in the fourth volume of his Works, byDutens. (Geneva, 1768.) I liavo 
inserted a short extract from the former, in note i. at the end ol the volume. 

h 2 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


JOO 


Dr. Campbell, too, in his “ Philosophy of Rhetoric,” has founded, 
on the principles of Berkeley and Hume, a very curious and inte¬ 
resting speculation, of which I shall have occasion afterwaids to 
take notice. . t 

The explanation which the doctrines of these writers afford, oi 
the process of the mind in general reasoning, is so simple, and at 
the same time, in my apprehension, so satisfactory, that I own it 
is with some degree of surprise I have read the attempts which 
have lately been made to revive the system of the Realists.. One 
of the ablest of these attempts is by Dr. Price, who, in his very 
valuable “ Treatise on Morals,” has not only employed his inge¬ 
nuity in support of some of the old tenets of the Platonic school, 
but has even gone so far as to follow Plato’s example, in connect¬ 
ing this speculation about universals with the sublime questions of 
natural theology. The observations which he has offered in sup¬ 
port of these opinions, I have repeatedly perused with, all the 
attention in my power, but without being able to enter into his 
views, or even to comprehend fully his meaning. Indeed, I must 
acknowledge that it appears to me to afford no slight presumption 
against the principles on which he proceeds, when I observe, that 
an author, remarkable, on most occasions, for precision of ideas, 
and for perspicuity of style, never fails to lose himself in obscurity 
and mystery when he enters on these disquisitions. 

Dr. Price’s reasonings in proof of the existence of universals are 
the more curious, as he acquiesces in some of Dr. Reid’s conclu¬ 
sions with respect to the ideal theory of perception. That there 
are in the mind, images or resemblances of things external, he 
grants to be impossible ; but still he seems to suppose, that in every 
exertion of thought, there is something immediately present to the 
mind, which is the object of its attention. “ When abstract truth 
is contemplated, is not,” says he, “the very object itself present 
to the mind ? When millions of intellects contemplate the equality 
of every angle in a semicircle to a right angle, have they not all the 
same object in view? Is this object nothing? or is it only an 
image, or kind of shadow ? These inquiries,” he adds, “ carry our 
thoughts high.”* 

The difficulty which has appeared so puzzling to this ingenious 


* The whole passage is as follows : “ The word idea is sometimes used to signify the 
immediate object of the mind in thinking, considered as something in the mind, which 
represents the real object, but is different from it. This sense of an idea is derived 
from the notion, that when we think of any external existence, there is something 
immediately present to the mind, which it contemplates distinct from the object itself, 
that being at a distance. But what is this ? It is bad language to call it an image in 
the mind of the object. Shall we say, then, that there is indeed no such thing ? But 
would not this be the same as to say that, when the mind is employed in viewing and 
examining any object, which is either not present to it, or does not exist, it is employed 
in viewing and examining nothing, and therefore does not then think at all ? When 
abstract truth is contemplated, is not the very object itself present to the mind ? When 
millions of intellects contemplate the equality of every angle in a semicircle to a right 
angle, have they not all the same object in view ? Is this object nothing ? or is it only 
an image, or kind of shadow ? These inquiries carry our thoughts high.” 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


101 


writer, is, in truth, more apparent than real. In the case of per¬ 
ception, imagination, and memory, it has been already fully shown, 
that we have no reason to believe the existence of any thing in the 
mind distinct from the mind itself; and that, even upon the suppo¬ 
sition that the fact were otherwise, our intellectual operations would 
be just as inexplicable as they are at present. Why then should 
we suppose that, in our general speculations, there must exist in 
the mind some object of its thoughts, when it appears that there is 
no evidence of the existence of any such object, even when the 
mind is employed about individuals ? 

Still, however, it may be urged, that, although, in such cases, 
there should be no object of thovght in the mind, there must exist 
something or other to which its attention is directed. To this diffi¬ 
culty I have no answer to make, but by repeating the fact which I 
have already endeavoured to establish; that there are only two 
ways in which we can possibly speculate about classes of objects: 
the one, by means of a word or generic term; the other, by means 
of one particular individual of the class which we consider as the 
representative of the rest; and that these two methods of carrying 
on our general speculations, are at bottom so much the same, as to 
authorize us to lay down as a principle, that, without the use of 
signs, all our thoughts must have related to individuals. When we 
reason, therefore, concerning classes or genera, the objects of our 
attention are merely signs; or if, in any instance, the generic word 
should recall some individual, this circumstance is to be regarded 
only as the consequence of an accidental association, which has 
rather a tendency to disturb, than to assist us in our reasoning. 

Whether it might not have been possible for the Deity to have 
so formed us, that we might have been capable of reasoning, con¬ 
cerning classes of objects, without the use of signs, I shall not take 
upon me to determine. But this we may venture to affirm with 
confidence, that man is not such a being. And, indeed, even if he 
were, it would not therefore necessarily follow, that there exists 
any thing in a genus, distinct from the individuals of which it is 
composed; for we know that the power which we have of thinking 
of particular objects without the medium of signs, does not in the 
least depend on their existence or non-existence at the moment we 
think of them. # 

It would be vain, however, for us, in inquiries of this nature, 
to indulge ourselves in speculating about possibilities. It is of 
more consequence to remark the advantages which we derive from 
our actual constitution, and which, in the present instance, appear 
to me to be important and admirable; inasmuch as it fits mankind 
for an easy interchange of their intellectual acquisitions; by 
imposing on them the necessity of employing, in their solitary 
speculations, the same instrument of thought, which forms the 
established medium of their communications with each other. 

In the very slight sketch which I have given of the controversy 
between the Nominalists and the Realists about the existence o 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


102 


universals, I have taken no notice of an intermediate sect called 
Conceptualists; whose distinguishing tenet is said to have been, 
that the mind has a power of forming general conceptions.* From 
the indistinctness and inaccuracy of their language on the subject, 
it is not a very easy matter to ascertain precisely what was their 
opinion on the point in question; but, on the whole, I am inclined 
to think, that it amounted to the two following propositions: first, 
that we have no reason to believe the existence of any essences, or 
universal ideas, corresponding to general terms ; and secondly, that 
the mind has the power of reasoning concerning genera , or classes 
of individuals, icithout the mediation of language. Indeed, I cannot 
think of any other hypothesis which it is possible to form on the 
subject, distinct from those of the two celebrated sects already 
mentioned. In denying the existence of universals, we know that 
the Conceptualists agreed with the Nominalists. In what, then, 
can we suppose that they differed from them, but about the necessity 
of language as an instrument of thought, in carrying on our general 
speculations ? 

With this sect of Conceptualists, Dr. Reid is disposed to rank 
Mr. Locke; and I agree with him so far as to think, that, if Locke 
had any decided opinion on the point in dispute, it did not differ 
materially from what I have endeavoured to express in the two 
general propositions which I have just now stated. The apparent 
inconsistencies which occur in that part of his Essay in which the 
question is discussed, have led subsequent authors to represent his 
sentiments in different lights; but as these inconsistencies plainly 
show, that he was neither satisfied with the system of the Realists, 
nor with that of the Nominalists; they appear to me to demon¬ 
strate that he leaned to the intermediate hypothesis already men¬ 
tioned, notwithstanding the inaccurate and paradoxical manner in 
which he has expressed it. See note k. 

May I take the liberty of adding, that Dr. Reid’s own opinion 

* “ Nominales, deserta paulo Abelardi hypothesi, universalia in notionibus atque 
conceptibus mentis ex rebus singularibus abstractions formatis consistere statuebant, 
unde conceptuales dicti sunt.” [The Nominalists, having a little deviated from the 
hypothesis of Abelard, laid it down that universals consisted in notions and conceptions 
of the mind, formed by abstraction, from individual objects, and they were thence 
styled Conceptualists.]—Brucker, vol. iii. p. 908. (Lips. 1766.) 

“ Nominalium tres erant familise. Aliqui ut Roscelinus, universalia meras esse voces 
docuerunt. • Alii iterum in solo intellectu posuerunt, atque meros animi conceptus esse 
autumarunt, quos conceptuales aliqui vocant, et a nominalibus distinguunt quanquam 
alii etiam confundant. Alii fuerunt, qui universalia qusesiverunt, non tarn in vocibus, 
quam in sermonibus integris, quod Joli. Sarisberiensis adscribit Pet. Abelardo ; quo' 
quid intelligat ille, mihi non satis liquet.”—Morhoff. Polyhistor. Tom. Sec. lib. i. 
cap. xiii. sec. 2. [There were three sects of Nominalists. Some, Roscelinus for 
instance, maintained that universals are mere words. Others placed them exclusively 
in the intellect, and regarded them as mere conceptions of the mind ; these are by 
some styled Conceptualists, and distinguished from Nominalists, though others con¬ 
found them together. There were others who looked for universals not so much in 
words as in whole sentences ; an opinion which John of Salisbury attributes to Peter 
Abelard. I cannot understand altogether what he means by this.] 

I have taken no notice of the last class of Nominalists here mentioned, as I find 
myself unable to comprehend their doctrine. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


103 

seems to me also to coincide nearly with that of the Conceptualists; 
or, at least, to coincide with the two propositions which I have 
already supposed to contain a summary of their doctrine? The 
absurdity of the ancient opinion concerning universals, as main¬ 
tained both by Plato and Aristotle, he has exposed by the clearest 
and most decisive arguments; not to mention, that, by his own 
very original and important speculations concerning the ideal 
theory, he has completely destroyed that natural prejudice from 
which the whole system of universal ideas gradually took rise. If, 
even in the case of individuals, we have no reason to believe the 
existence of any object of thought in the mind, distinct from the 
mind itself, we are at once relieved from all the difficulties in which 
philosophers have involved themselves, by attempting to explain, 
in consistency with that ancient hypothesis, the process of the mind 
in its general speculations. 

On the other hand, it is no less clear, from Dr. Reid’s criticisms 
on Berkeley and Hume, that his opinion does not coincide with 
that of the Nominalists; and that the power which the mind pos¬ 
sesses of reasoning concerning classes of objects, appears to him to 
imply some faculty, of which no notice is taken in the systems of 
these philosophers. 

The long experience I have had of the candour of this excellent 
author, encourages me to add, that, in stating his opinion on the 
subject of universals, he has not expressed himself in a manner so 
completely satisfactory to my mind, as on most other occasions. 
That language is not an essential instrument of thought in our 
general reasonings, he has no where positively asserted. At the 
same time, as he has not affirmed the contrary, and as he has 
declared himself dissatisfied with the doctrines of Berkeley and 
Hume, his readers are naturally led to conclude, that this is his real 
opinion on the subject. His silence on this point is the more to 
be regretted, as it is the only point about which there can be any 
reasonable controversy among those who allow his refutation of the 
ideal hypothesis to be satisfactory. In consequence of that refuta¬ 
tion, the whole dispute between the Realists and the Conceptualists 
falls at once to the ground; but the dispute between the Concep¬ 
tualists and the Nominalists (which involves the great question 
concerning the use of signs in general speculation) remains on the 
same footing as before. 

In order to justify his own expressions concerning universals ; 
and in opposition to the language of Berkeley and Hume, Dr. Reid 
is at pains to illustrate a distinction between conception and imagi¬ 
nation, which, he thinks, has not been sufficiently attended to by 
philosophers. “ An universal,” says he, “is not an object of any 
external sense, and therefore cannot be imagined ; but it may be 
distinctly conceived. When Mr. Pope says, c The proper study of 
mankind is man,’ I conceive his meaning distinctly; although I 
neither imagine a black or a white, a crooked or a straight man. I 


104 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


can conceive a thing that is impossible ; but I cannot distinctly 
imagine a thing that is impossible. I can conceive a proposition or 
a demonstration, but I cannot imagine either. I can conceive 
understanding and will, virtue and vice, and other attributes of the 
mind; but I cannot imagine them. In like manner, I can distinctly 
conceive universals: but I cannot imagine them.” (Intellectual 
Powers of Man. Essay V. chap. vi. §. x. edit. 1843.) . 

It appears from this passage, that, by conceiving universals. Dr. 
Reid means nothing more than understanding the meaning of pro¬ 
positions involving 'general terms. But the observations he has 
made, (admitting them in their full extent), do not in the least affect 
the question about the necessity of signs, to enable us to speculate 
about such propositions. The vague use which metaphysical writers 
have made of the word conception, (of which I had occasion to take 
notice in a former chapter,) has contributed in part to embarrass 
this subject. That we cannot conceive universals, in a way at all 
analogous to that in which we conceive an absent object of sense, is 
granted on both sides. Why then should we employ the same word 
conception , to express two operations of the mind which are essen¬ 
tially different ? When we speak of conceiving or understanding a 
general proposition, we mean nothing more than that we have a 
conviction, (founded on our previous use of the words in which it is 
expressed,) that we have it in our power, at pleasure, to substitute, 
instead of the general terms, some one of the individuals compre¬ 
hended under them. When we hear a proposition announced, of 
which the terms are not familiar to us, we naturally desire to have 
it exemplified, or illustrated, by means of some particular instance ; 
and when we are once satisfied by such an application, that we have 
the interpretation of the proposition at all times in our power, we 
make no scruple to say, that we conceive or understand its meaning, 
although we should not extend our views beyond the words in which 
it is announced, or even although no particular exemplification of 
it should occur to us at the moment. It is in this sense only, that 
the terms of any general proposition can possibly be understood : 
and therefore Dr. Reid’s argument does not, in the least, invalidate 
the doctrine of the Nominalists, that, without the use of language, 
(under which term I comprehend every species of signs), we should 
never have been able to extend our speculations beyond individuals. 

That, in many cases, we may safely employ in our reasonings, 
general terms, the meaning of which we are not even able to inter¬ 
pret in this way, and consequently, which are to us wholly insignifi¬ 
cant, I had occasion already to demonstrate, in a former part of 
this section. 

IV. Continuation of the same subject. Inferences with respect to the 
use of Language as an Instrument of Thought, and the errors in 
Reasoning to which it occasionally gives rise .—In the last Section I 
mentioned Dr. Campbell, as an ingenious defender of the system of 
the Nominalists ; and I alluded to a particular application which 
he has made of their doctrine. The reasonings which I had then 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


105 


in view, are to be found in the seventh chapter of the second book 
of his Philosophy of Rhetoric; in which chapter he proposes to 
explain how it happens, “ that nonsense so often escapes being 
detected, both by the writer and the reader.” The title is somewhat 
ludicrous in a grave philosophical work; but the disquisition to 
which it is prefixed, contains many acute and profound remarks on 
the nature and power of signs, both as a medium of communication, 
and as an instrument of thought. 

Dr. Campbell’s speculations with respect to language as an 
instrument of thought, seem to have been suggested by the fol¬ 
lowing passage in Mr. Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature. “ I 
believe, every one who examines the situation of his mind in rea¬ 
soning, will agree with me, that we do not annex distinct and 
complete ideas to every term we make use of; and that in talking 
of government, church, negotiation, conquest, we seldom spread 
out in our minds all the simple ideas of which these complex ones 
are composed. It is, however, observable, that notwithstanding 
this imperfection, we may avoid talking nonsense on these subjects; 
and may perceive any repugnance among the ideas, as well as if 
we had a full comprehension of them. Thus if, instead of saying, 
that, in war, the weaker have always recourse to negotiation, we 
should say, that they have always recourse to conquest; the custom 
which we have acquired, of attributing certain relations to ideas, 
still follows the words, and makes us immediately perceive the 
absurdity of that proposition.” 

In the remarks which Dr. Campbell has made on this passage, he 
has endeavoured to explain in what manner our habits of thinking 
and speaking, gradually establish in the mind such relations among 
the words we employ, as enable us to carry on processes of reasoning 
by means of them, without attending in every instance to their par¬ 
ticular signification. With most of his remarks on this subject I 
perfectly agree; but the illustrations he gives of them, are of too 
great extent to be introduced here; and I would not wish to run 
the risk of impairing their perspicuity, by attempting to abridge 
them. I must, therefore, refer such of my readers as wish to 
prosecute the speculation, to his very ingenious and philosophical 
treatise. 

“ In consequence of these circumstances,” says Dr. Campbell, 
“ it happens that, in matters which are perfectly familiar to us, we 
are able to reason by means of words, without examining, in every 
instance, their signification. Almost all the possible applications of 
the terms (in other words, all the acquired relations of the signs), 
have become customary to us. The consequence is, that an unusual 
application of any term is instantly detected ; this detection breeds 
doubt, and this doubt occasions an immediate recourse to ideas. 
The recourse of the mind, when in any degree puzzled with the 
signs, to the knowledge it has of the things signified, is natural, and 
on such subjects perfectly easy. And of this recourse the discovery 
of the meaning, or of the unmeaningness of what is said, is the 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


106 


immediate effect. But in matters that are by no means familiar, 
or are treated in an uncommon manner, and in such as are of an 
abstruse and intricate nature, the case is widely different.” The 
instances in which we are chiefly liable to be imposed on by words 
without meaning are, (according to Dr. Campbell), the three 
following : 

First , Where there is an exuberance of metaphor. 

Secondly , When the terms most frequently occurring, denote 
things which are of a complicated nature, and to which the mind 
is not sufficiently familiarised. Such are the words, government, 
church, state, constitution, polity, power, commerce, legislature, 
jurisdiction, proportion, symmetry, elegance. 

Thirdly , When the terms employed are very abstract, and conse¬ 
quently of very extensive signification.* For an illustration of 
these remarks, I must refer the reader to the ingenious work which 
I just now quoted. 

To the observations of these eminent writers, I shall take the 
liberty of adding, that we are doubly liable to the mistakes they 
mention, when we make use of a language which is not perfectly 
familiar to us. Nothing, indeed, I apprehend, can show more 
clearly the use we make of words in reasoning than this, that an 
observation which, when expressed in our own language, seems 
trite or frivolous, often acquires the appearance of depth and origi¬ 
nality, by being translated into another. For my own part, at 
least, I am conscious of having been frequently led, in this way, to 
form an exaggerated idea of the merits of ancient and of foreign 
authors; and it has happened to me more than once, that a sen¬ 
tence, which seemed at first to contain something highly ingenious 
and profound, when translated into words familiar to me, appeared 
obviously to be a trite or a nugatory proposition. 

The effect produced by an artificial and inverted style in our 
own language, is similar to what we experience when we read a 
composition in a foreign one. The eye is too much dazzled to see 
distinctly. “ Aliud styli genus,” says Bacon, “ totum in eo est, ut 
verba sint aculeata, sententise concisse, oratio denique potius pressa 
quam fusa, quo fit, ut omnia, per hujusmodi artificium, magis inge- 
niosa videantur quam re vera sint. Tale invenitur in Seneca 
effusius, in Tacito et Plinio secundo moderatius.” f 


* “ The more general any word is in its signification, it is the more liable to be 
abused by an improper or unmeaning application. A very general term is applicable 
alike to a multitude of different individuals, a particular term is applicable but to a few. 
When the rightful applications of a word are extremely numerous, they cannot all be 
so strongly fixed by habit, but that, for greater security, we must perpetually recur in 
our minds from the sign to the notion we have of the thing signified ; and, for the reason 
afore-mentioned, it is in such instances difficult precisely to ascertain this notion. Thus, 
the latitude of a word, though different from its ambiguity, hath often a similar effect.” 
—Philosophy of Rhetoric, vol. ii. p. 122. 

+ Another sort of style is altogether such, that the words are pointed sentences, con¬ 
cise the style, rather compress than diffuse, by which contrivance everything appears 
more ingenious than it really is. Such may be observed more remarkably in Seneca, 
more moderately in Tacitus, and Pliny the younger. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


107 

The deranged collocation of the words in Latin composition, 
aids powerfully the imposition we have now been considering, and 
renders that language an inconvenient medium of philosophical 
communication, as well as an inconvenient instrument of accurate 
thought. Indeed, in all languages in which this latitude in the 
arrangement of words is admitted, the associations among words 
must be looser than where one invariable order is followed; and 
of consequence, on the principles of Hume and Campbell, the 
mistakes which are committed in reasonings expressed in such 
languages will not be so readily detected. 

The errors in reasoning to which we are exposed, in consequence 
of the use of words as an instrument of thought, will appear the 
less surprising, when we consider that all the languages which have 
hitherto existed in the world, have derived their origin from 
popular use; and that their application to philosophical purposes 
was altogether out of the view of those men who first employed 
them. Whether it might not be possible to invent a language 
which would at once facilitate philosophical communication, and 
form a more convenient instrument of reasoning and of invention 
than those we possess at present, is a question of very difficult dis¬ 
cussion, and upon which I shall not presume to offer an opinion. 
The failure of Wilkins’s very ingenious attempt towards a real 
character and a philosophical language, is not perhaps decisive 
against such a project; for, not to mention some radical defects in 
his plan, the views of that very eminent philosopher do not seem 
to have extended much farther than to promote and extend the 
literary intercourse among different nations. Leibnitz, so far as I 
know, is the only author who has hitherto conceived the possibility 
of aiding the powers of invention and o£ reasoning, by the use of 
a more convenient instrument of thought; but he has nowhere 
explained his ideas on this very interesting subject. It is only from 
a conversation of his with Mr. Boyle and Mr. Oldenburgh, when 
he was in England in 1673, and from some imperfect hints in 
different parts of his works, (see note l.) that we find it had engaged 
his attention. In the course of this conversation he observed, that 
Wilkins had mistaken the true end of a real character, which was 
not merely to enable different nations to correspond easily together, 
but to assist the reason, the invention, and the memory. In his 
writings, too, he somewhere speaks of an alphabet of human 
thoughts, which he had been employed in forming, and which, 
probably, (as Fontenelle has remarked,) had some relation to his 
universal language *. 

* (t M. Leibnitz avoit con£u le projet d’une laugue philosophique et universelle. 
Wilkins Eveque de Chester, et Dalgarno, y avoient travaille; mais des le temps qu’il 
etoit en Angleterre, il avoit dit a Messieurs Boyle et d’Oldenbourg qu’il ne croyoit pas 
que ces grands hommes eussent encore frappe au but. Ils pouvoient bien faire que 
des nations qui ne s’entendoient pas eussent aisement commerce, mais ils n’avoient pas 
attrape les veritables caracteres reels, qui etoient l’instrument le plus fin dont 1 esprit 
liumain se put servir, et qui devoient extreinement faciliter et le raisonnement, et la 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


108 


[The new nomenclature which has been introduced into chemistry , 
seems to me to furnish a striking illustration of the effect of appro¬ 
priated and well-defined expressions, in aiding the intellectual 
powers; and the period is probably not far distant, when similar 
innovations will be attempted in some of the other sciences.] 

V. Of the Purposes to which the Powers o f Abstraction and Gene¬ 
ralization are subservient. —It has been already shown, that without 
the use of signs, all our knowledge must necessarily have been 
limited to individuals, and that we should have been perfectly 
incapable both of classification and general reasoning. Some authors 
have maintained, that without the power of generalization, (which 
I have endeavoured to show means nothing more than the capacity 
of employing general terms,) it would have been impossible for us 
to have carried on any species of reasoning whatever. But I 
cannot help thinking that this opinion is erroneous ; or, at least, 
that it is very imperfectly stated. The truth is, it appears to me 
to be just in one sense of the word reasoning , but false in another ; 
and I even suspect it is false in that sense of the word in which 
it is most commonly employed. Before, therefore, it is laid down 
as a general proposition, the meaning we are to annex to this very 
vague and ambiguous term, should be ascertained with precision. 

It has been remarked by several writers, that the expectation 
which we feel of the continuance of the laws of nature, is not 
founded upon reasoning; and different theories have of late been 
proposed to account for its origin. Mr. Hume resolves it into the 
association of ideas. Dr. Reid, on the other hand, maintains, that 
it is an original principle of our constitution, which does not admit 
of any explanation; and which, therefore, is to be ranked among, 
those general and ultimate facts, beyond which philosophy is unable 
to proceed*. Without this principle of expectation, it would be 
impossible for us to accommodate our conduct to the established 

memoire, et l’invention des choses. Us devoient ressembler, autant qu’il etoit possible, 
aux caracteres d’algebre, qui en effet sont tres-simples, et tres-expressifs ; qui n’ont 
jamais ni superfluity, ni equivoque, et dont toutes les varietes sont raisonnees. 11 a 
parle, en quelque endroit, d’un alphabet des pensees humaines, qu’il meditoit. Selon 
toutes les apparences, cet alphabet avoit rapport a sa langue universelle.”—Eloge de 
M. Leibnitz, par M. de Fontenelle. 

[M. Leibnitz had conceived the project of a universal and philosophical language. 
Wilkins Bishop of Chester, and Dalgarno, had laboured on the same subject. But, 
after his (Liebnitz’s) ai’rival in England, he had said to Mr. Boyle and Mr. Oldenbourg 
that he did not think those great men had quite hit the mark. They could no doubt 
contrive, that nations which did not understand each other might easily have commer¬ 
cial intercourse ; but they had not hit upon the true and real characters which would 
be the most refined instrument that the human mind could employ, and which would 
very greatly facilitate reasoning, memory, and invention. They should resemble as 
much as possible algebraical symbols, which are, in fact, very simple and expressive ; 
which have neither redundance nor ambiguity, and all the variations in which are the 
result of reasoning. He somewhere mentions an alphabet of human thoughts, to which he 
directed his thoughts. In all probability that alphabet referred to a universal language.] 

* In inquiries of this nature, so far removed from the common course of literary 
pursuits, it always gives me pleasure to remark a coincidence of opinion among diffe¬ 
rent philosophers; particularly among men of original genius, and who have been 
educated in different philosophical systems. The following passage, in which M. de 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


109 


course of nature; and, accordingly, we find that it is a principle 
coeval with our very existence, and, in some measure, common to 
man with the lower animals. 

It is an obvious consequence of this doctrine, that, although phi¬ 
losophers be accustomed to state what are commonly called the laws 
of nature, in the form of general propositions, it is by no means 
necessary for the practical purposes of life, that we should express 
them in this manner, or even that we should express them in words 
at all. The philosopher, for example, may state it as a law of 
nature, that “ fire scorchesor that “ heavy bodies, when unsup¬ 
ported, fall downwardsbut, long before the use of artificial signs, 
and even before the dawn of reason, a child learns to act upon both 
of these suppositions. In doing so, it is influenced merely by the 
instinctive principle which has now been mentioned, directed in its 
operation (as is the case with many other instincts) by the expe¬ 
rience of the individual. If man, therefore, had been destined for 
no other purposes than to acquire such an acquaintance with the 
course of nature as is necessary for the preservation of his animal 
existence, he might have fulfilled all the ends of his being without 
the use of language. 

As we are enabled, by our instinctive anticipation of physical 
events, to accommodate our conduct to what we foresee is to 
happen, so we are enabled, in many cases, to increase our power, 
by employing physical causes as instruments for the accomplish¬ 
ment of our purposes ; nay, we can employ a series of such causes, 

Condorcet gives an account of some of the metaphysical opinions of the late Mr. Turgot, 
approaches very nearly to Dr. Reid’s doctrines. 

“ La memoire de nos sensations, et la faculte que nous avons de reflechir sur ces 
sensations passees et de les combiner, sont le seul principe de nos connoissances. La 
supposition qu’il existe des loix constantes auxquelles tous les phenomenes observes 
sont assujettis de maniere a reparoitre dans tous les temps, dans toutes les circon- 
stances, tels qu’ils sont determines par ces loix, est le seul fondement de la certitude 
de ces connoissances. 

« Nous avons la conscience d’avoir observe cette Constance, et un sentiment involon- 
taire nous force de croire qu’elle continuera de subsister. La probability qui en resulte, 
quelque grande qu’elle soit, n’est pas une certitude. Aucune relation necessaire ne lie 
pour nous le passe a l’avenir, ni la Constance de ce que j’ai vu a celle de ce que j’aurois 
continue d’observer si j’etois reste dans des circonstances semblahles ; mais (’impres¬ 
sion qui me porte a regarder comme existant, comme reel, ce qui m’a presente ce 
caractdre de Constance, est irresistible.”—Vie de Turgot, partie ii. p. 56. 

[The remembrance of our sensations, and the power which we have to reflect on 
them and to combine them, constitute the sole elements of our knowledge. The sup¬ 
position that there exist undeviating laws, to which all observed phenomena are subject, 
in such a way that they recur at all times and under all circumstances accordingly as they 
are determined by such laws, is the sole foundation of the certainty of this knowledge. 
We are conscious of having observed this uniformity, and an involuntary conviction 
forces us to conclude that it will continue to exist. The probability resulting from 
this, however strong, does not amount to certainty. We cannot find that any neces¬ 
sary relation connects the past with the future, nor the uniformity which I have 
observed with that which I should have observed had I continued in similar circum¬ 
stances ; but the impression is irresistible which induces me to regard as existing and 
real, that which has suggested to me this character of uniformity.] . 

“Quand un Franc.;is et un Anglois pensent de meme,” says Voltaire, “il faut bien 
qu’ils aient raison.” [When a Frenchman and an Englishman are of the same way of 
thinking, they must needs be right.] 


110 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


so as to accomplish very remote effects. We can employ the agency 
of air, to increase the heat of a furnace ; the furnace, to render iron 
malleable; and the iron to all the various purposes of the mechani¬ 
cal arts. Now, it appears to me, that all this may be conceived 
and done without the aid of language; and yet, assuredly, to dis¬ 
cover a series of means subservient to a particular end, or, in other 
words, an effort of mechanical invention, implies, according to the 
common doctrines of philosophers, the exercise of our reasoning 
powers. In this sense, therefore, of the word reasoning, I am 
inclined to think, that it is not essentially connected with the faculty 
of generalization, or with the use of signs. 

It is some confirmation of this conclusion, that savages, whose 
minds are almost wholly occupied with particulars, and who have 
neither inclination nor capacity for general speculations, are yet 
occasionally, observed to employ a long train of means for accom¬ 
plishing a particular purpose. Even something of this kind, but 
in a very inferior degree, may, I think, be remarked in the other 
animals; and that they do not carry it farther, is probably not the 
effect of their want of generalization, but of the imperfection of 
some of those faculties which are common to them with our species; 
particularly of their powers of attention and recollection. The 
instances which are commonly produced, to prove that they are not 
destitute of the power of reasoning, are all examples of that species 
of contrivance which has been mentioned; and are perfectly dis¬ 
tinct from those intellectual processes to which the use of signs is 
essentially subservient.* 

* One of the best attested instances which I have met with, of sagacity in the lower 
animals, is mentioned by M. Bailly, in his “ Lettre sur les Animaux,” addressed to 
M. Le Roy :— 

“Un de mes amis, liomme d’esprit et digne de confiance, m’a raconte deuxfaits dont 
il a ete temoin. II avoit un singe tres-intelligent ; il s’amusoit a lui donner des noix, 
dont l’animal etoit tres-friand ; mais il les plafoit assez loin, pour que, retenu par sa 
chaine, le singe ne put pas les atteindre : apres bien des efforts inutiles qui ne servent 
qu’a preparer l’invention, le singe, voyant passer un domestique portant une serviette 
sous le bras, se saisit de cette serviette, et s’en servit pour atteindre a la noix et 
l’amener jusqu’a lui. La maniere de casser la noix exigea une nouvelle invention ; il 
en vint a bout, en pla^ant la noix a terre, en y faisant tomber de liaut une pierre ou 
un caillou pour la briser. Vous voyez, monsieur, que sans avoir connu, comme Galilee, 
les loix de la chute des corps, le singe avoit bien remarque la force que ces corps 
acquierent par la chute. Ce moyen cependant se trouva en defaut. Un jour qu’il avoit 
plu, la terre etoit molle, la noix enfon^oit, et la pierre n’avoit plus d’action pour la 
briser. Que fit le singe ? Il alia chercher un tuileau, plafa la noix dessus, et en lais- 
sant tomber la pierre il brisa la noix qui n’enfonfoit plus.”—Discours et Memoires par 
l'auteur de l’Histoire de rAstronomie. A Paris, 1790, tome ii. p. 126. 

[One of my friends, an intelligent and trustworthy man, has related to me two facts of 
which he was witness. He had a very sagacious monkey, and used to amuse himself 
by giving the creature nuts, of which it was very fond ; but he used to put them at 
such a distance, that it could not reach them in consequence of being held back by its 
chain. After many unsuccessful efforts, which served to sharpen its invention, the 
monkey seeing a servant pass by having a napkin under his arm, caught hold of the 
napkin, drew it to him, and made use of it for reaching the nut and drawing it to 
him. The mode of cracking the nut required a new invention ; he effected it by placing 
the nut on the ground, and causing a stone to fall on it from above for the purpose of 
breaking it. You see, Sir, that without being like Galileo acquainted with the laws 
which regulate the fall of bodies, the monkey had observed the force which bodies 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


1J1 

[Whether that particular species of mechanical contrivance which 
has now been mentioned, and which consists merely in employing 
a series of physical causes to accomplish an effect which we cannot 
produce immediately, should or should not be dignified with the 
name of reasoning, I shall not now inquire. It is sufficient for my 
present purpose to remark, that it is essentially different from those 
intellectual processes to which the use of signs is indispensably 
necessary.] At the same time, I am ready to acknowledge, that 
what I have now said, is not strictly applicable to those more com¬ 
plicated mechanical inventions, in which a variety of powers are 
made to conspire at once to produce a particular effect. Such con¬ 
trivances, perhaps, may be found to involve processes of the mind 
which cannot be carried on without signs. But these questions will 
fall more properly under our consideration when we enter on the 
subject of reasoning. 

In general, it may be remarked, that in so far as our thoughts 
relate merely to individual objects, or to individual events, which 
we have “actually perceived, and of which we retain a distinct 
remembrance,* we are not under the necessity of employing words. 
It frequently, however, happens, that when the subjects of our con¬ 
sideration are particular, our reasoning with respect to them may 
involve very general notions ; and, in such cases, although we may 
conceive, without the use of words, the things about which we 
reason, yet we must necessarily have recourse to language in carry¬ 
ing on our speculations concerning them. [If the subjects of our 
reasoning be general, (under which description I include all our 
reasonings, whether more or less comprehensive, which do not 

acquire in falling. That expedient, however, was ineffectual. One rainy day the 
ground was soft, the nut sank into it, and the stone could not break it. What did the 
monkey do ? He made out a tile, on which he placed the nut, and then letting the 
stone fall broke the nut, as it no longer sank into the supporting substance.” Dis¬ 
courses and Memoirs by the author of the History of Astronomy.] 

Admitting these facts to be accurately stated, they still leave an essential distinction 
between-man and brutes ; for in none of the contrivances here mentioned, is there any 
thing analogous to those intellectual processes which lead the mind to general conclu¬ 
sions, and which (according to the foregoing doctrine) imply the use of general terms. 
Those powers, therefore, which enable us to classify objects, and to employ signs as an 
instrument of thought, are, as far as we can judge, peculiar to the human species. 

* I have thought it proper to add this limitation of the general proposition ; because 
individual objects, and individual events, which have not fallen under the examination 
of our senses, cannot possibly be made the subjects of our consideration, but by means 
of language. The manner in which we think of such objects and events, is accurately 
described in the following passage of Wollaston ; however unphilosophical the conclu¬ 
sion may be which he deduces from his reasoning. 

“ A man is not known ever the more to posterity, because his name is transmitted to 
them ; he doth not live because his name does. When it is said, Julius Caesar subdued 
Gaul, beat Pompey, changed the Roman commonwealth into a monarchy, &c. it is the same 
thino- as to say the conqueror of Pompey was Caesar ; that is, Caesar, and the conqueror 
of Pompey, are the same thing ; and Caesar is as much known by the one distinction 
as the other. The amount then is only this : that the conqueror of Pompey conquered 
Pompey ; or somebody conquered Pompey ; or rather, since Pompey is as little known 
now as Caesar, somebody conquered somebody. Such a poor business is this boasted 
immortality ; and such, as has been here described, is the thing called glory among 
us !”—Religion of Nat. Del. p. 117. 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


112 


relate merely to individuals), words are the sole objects about 
which our thoughts are employed. According as these words are 
comprehensive or limited in their signification, the conclusions we 
form will be more or less general; but this accidental circumstance 
does not in the least affect the nature of the intellectual process; 
so that it may be laid down as a proposition which holds without 
any exception, that, in every case in which we extend our specula¬ 
tions beyond individuals, language is not only a useful auxiliary, 
but is the sole instrument by which they are carried ow.] 

These remarks naturally lead me to take notice of what forms 
the characteristical distinction between the speculations of the philo¬ 
sopher and of the vulgar. It is not that the former is accustomed 
to carry on his processes of reasoning to a greater extent than the 
latter ; but that the conclusions he is accustomed to form, are far 
more comprehensive, in consequence of the habitual employment 
of more comprehensive terms. Among the most unenlightened of 
mankind, we often meet with individuals who possess the reasoning 
faculty in a very eminent degree; but as this faculty is employed 
merely about particulars, it never can conduct them to general 
truths ; and, of consequence, whether their pursuits in life lead 
them to speculation or to action, it can only fit them for distinguishing 
themselves in some very limited and subordinate sphere. The 
philosopher, whose mind has been familiarised by education, and by 
his own reflections, to the correct use of more comprehensive terms, 
is enabled, without perhaps a greater degree of intellectual exertion 
than is necessary for managing the details of ordinary business, to 
arrive at general theorems; which, when illustrated to the lower 
classes of men, in their particular applications, seem to indicate a 
fertility of invention, little short of supernatural.* 

The analogy of the algebraical art may be of use in illustrating 
these observations. The difference, in fact, between the investiga¬ 
tions we carry on by its assistance, and other processes of reasoning, 
is more inconsiderable than is commonly imagined; and if I am 
not mistaken, amounts only to this, that the former are expressed 
in an appropriated language, with which we are not accustomed to 
associate particular notions. Hence they exhibit the efficacy of 
signs as an instrument of thought in a more distinct and palpable 
manner, than the speculations we carry on by words, which are 
continually awakening the power of conception. 

[When the celebrated Yieta showed algebraists that, by substi¬ 
tuting in their investigations letters of the alphabet, instead of known 

* “ General reasonings seem intricate, merely because they are general; nor is it 
easy for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a great number of particulars, that 
common circumstance in which they all agree, or to extract it, pure and unmixt, from 
the other superfluous circumstances. Every judgment or conclusion with them is par¬ 
ticular. They cannot enlarge their view to those universal propositions, which compre¬ 
hend under them an infinite number of individuals, and include a whole science in a 
single theorem. Their eye is confounded with such an extensive prospect ; and the 
conclusions derived from it, even though clearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure.” 
—Hume’s Political Discourses. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


113 


quantities , they might render the solution of every problem sub¬ 
servient to the discovery of a general truth, he did not increase 
the difficulty of algebraical reasonings : he only enlarged the signi¬ 
fication of the terms of which they were expressed.] And if, in 
teaching that science, it is found expedient to accustom students to 
solve problems by means of the particular numbers which are given, 
before they are made acquainted with literal or specious arithmetic, 
it is not because the former processes are less intricate than the 
latter, but because their scope and utility are more obvious, and 
because it is more easy to illustrate, by examples than by words, the 
difference between a particular conclusion and a general theorem. 

[The difference between the intellectual processes of the vulgar 
and of the philosopher, is perfectly analogous to that between the 
two states of the algebraical art before and after the time of Vieta ; 
the general terms which are used in the various sciences, giving to 
those who can employ them' with correctness and dexterity, the 
same sort of advantage over the uncultivated sagacity of the bulk 
of mankind, which the expert algebraist possesses over the arith¬ 
metical accountant.] 

If the foregoing doctrine be admitted as just, it exhibits a view 
of the utility of language, which appears to me to be peculiarly 
striking and beautiful ; as it shows that the same faculties which, 
without the use of signs, must necessarily have been limited to the 
consideration of individual objects and particular events, are, by 
means of signs, fitted to embrace, without effort, those comprehen¬ 
sive theorems, to the discovery of which, in detail, the united efforts 
of the whole human race would have been unequal. The 

advantage our animal strength acquires by the use of mechanical 
engines, exhibits but a faint image of that increase of our intellec¬ 
tual capacity which we owe to language. It is this increase of our 
natural powers of comprehension, which seems to be the principal 
foundation of the pleasure we receive from the discovery of general 
theorems. Such a discovery gives us at once the command of an 
infinite variety of particular truths, and communicates to the mind 
a sentiment of its own power, not unlike to what we feel when we 
contemplate the magnitude of those physical effects, of which we 
have acquired the command by our mechanical contrivances. 

It may perhaps appear, at first, to be a farther consequence of the 
principles I have been endeavouring to establish, that the difficulty 
of philosophical discoveries is much less than is commonly imagined; 
but the truth is, it only follows from them, that this difficulty is of 
a different nature from what we are apt to suppose, on a superficial 
view of the subject. To employ, with skill, the very delicate 
instrument which nature has made essentially subservient to general 
reasoning, and to guard against the errors which result from an 
injudicious use of it, require an uncommon capacity of patient 
attention, and a cautious circumspection in conducting our various 
intellectual processes, which can only be acquired by early ha its 


114 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


of philosophical reflection. To assist and direct us in making this 
acquisition, ought to form the most important branch of a rational 
logic; a science of far more extensive utility, and of which the 
principles lie much deeper in the philosophy of the human mind, 
than the trifling art which is commonly dignified with that name. 
The branch in particular to which the foregoing observations more 
immediately relate, must for ever remain in its infancy, till a most 
difficult and important desideratum in the history of the mind is 
supplied, by an explanation of the gradual steps by which it acquires 
the use of the various classes of words which compose the language 
of a cultivated and enlightened people. Of some of the errors of 
reasoning to which we are exposed by an incautious use of words, 
I took notice in the preceding section; and I shall have occasion 
afterwards to treat the same subject more in detail in a subsequent 
part of my work. 

VI. Of the Errors to tohich we are liable in Speculation, and in the 
conduct of Affairs, in consequence of a rash Application of general 
Principles .—It appears sufficiently from the reasonings which I 
offered in the preceding section, how important are the advantages 
which the philosopher acquires, by quitting the study of particulars, 
and directing his attention to general principles. I flatter myself it 
appears farther, from the same reasonings, that it is in consequence 
of the use of language alone that the human mind is rendered 
capable of these comprehensive speculations. 

In order, however, to proceed with safety in the use of general 
principles, much caution and address are necessary, both in esta¬ 
blishing their truth, and in applying them to practice. Without a 
proper attention to the circumstances by which their application to 
particular cases must be modified, they will be a perpetual source 
of mistake, and of disappointment, in the conduct of affairs, how¬ 
ever rigidly just they may be in themselves, and however accurately 
we may reason from them. If our general principles happen to be 
false, they will involve us in errors, not only of conduct but of 
speculation; and our errors will be the more numerous, the more 
comprehensive the principles are on which we proceed. 

To illustrate these observations fully, would lead to a minuteness 
of disquisition inconsistent with my general plan; and I shall 
therefore, at present, confine myself to such remarks as appear to 
be of most essential importance. 

And, in the first place, [it is evidently impossible to establish 
solid general principles, without the previous study of particulars ; in 
other words, it is necessary to begin with the examination of indi¬ 
vidual objects, and individual events; in order to lay a ground¬ 
work for accurate classification, and for a just investigation of the 
laws of nature.] It is in this way only that we can expect to arrive 
at general principles, which may be safely relied on, as guides to 
the knowledge of particular truths: and unless our principles admit 
of such a practical application, however beautiful they may appear 


OP ABSTRACTION. 


115 

to be in theory, they are of far less value than the limited acquisi¬ 
tions of the vulgar. The truth of these remarks is now so univer¬ 
sally admitted, and is indeed so obvious in itself, that it would be 
superfluous to multiply words in supporting them; and I should 
scarcely have thought of stating them in this chapter, if some of 
the most celebrated philosophers of antiquity had not been led to 
dispute them, in consequence of the mistaken opinions which they 
entertained concerning the nature of universal. Forgetting that 
genera and species are mere arbitrary creations which the human 
mind forms, by withdrawing the attention from the distinguishing 
qualities of objects, and giving a common name to their resembling 
qualities, they conceive universal to be real existences, or (as they 
expressed it) to be the essences of individuals; and flattered them¬ 
selves with the belief, that by directing their attention to these 
essences in the first instance, they might be enabled to penetrate 
the secrets of the universe, without submitting to the study of 
nature in detail. These errors, which were common to the Plato- 
nists and the Peripatetics, and which both of them seem to have 
adopted from the Pythagorean school, contributed, perhaps more 
than anything else, to retard the progress of the ancients in physical 
knowledge. The learned Mr. Harris is almost the only author 
of the present age who has ventured to defend this plan of philo¬ 
sophising, in opposition to that which has been so successfully 
followed by the disciples of Lord Bacon. 

“ The Platonists,” says he, “ considering science as something 
ascertained, definite, and steady, would admit nothing to be its 
object which was vague, indefinite, and passing. For this reason 
they excluded all individuals or objects of sense, and (as Ammonius 
expresses it) raised themselves in their contemplations from beings 
particular to beings universal, and which, from their own nature, 
were eternal and definite.”—“ Consonant to this was the advice 
of Plato, with respect to the progress of our speculations and 
inquiries, to descend from those higher genera, which include many 
subordinate species, down to the lowest rank of species, those 
which include only individuals. But here it was his opinion, that 
our inquiries should stop, and, as to individuals, let them wholly 
alone; because of these there could not possibly be any science.” 
(Harris’s Three Treatises, pp. 841, 342.) 

“ Such,” continues this author, “ was the method of ancient 
philosophy. The fashion, at present, appears to be somewhat 
altered, and the business of philosophers to be little else, than the 
collecting from every quarter, into voluminous records, an infinite 
number of sensible, particular, and unconnected facts, the chief 
effect of which is to excite our admiration.” In another part of 
his works the same author observes, that “ the mind, truly wise, 
quitting the study of particulars, as knowing their multitude to 
be infinite and incomprehensible, turns its intellectual eye to 
what is general and comprehensive, and through generals learns 


116 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


to see, and recognise whatever exists.” (Harris’s Three Treatises, 

p. 227.) 

If we abstract from these obvious errors of the ancient philoso¬ 
phers, with respect to the proper order to be observed in our 
inquiries, and only suppose them to end where the Platonists said 
that they should begin, the magnificent encomiums they bestowed 
on the utility of those comprehensive truths which form the object 
of science, (making allowance for the obscure and mysterious terms 
in which they expressed them), can scarcely be regarded as extra¬ 
vagant. It is probable that from a few accidental instances of 
successful investigation, they had been struck with the wonderful 
effect of general principles in increasing the intellectual power of 
the human mind; and, misled by that impatience in the study of 
particulars, which is so often connected with the consciousness of 
superior ability, they laboured to persuade themselves, that, by a 
life devoted to abstract meditation, such principles might be ren¬ 
dered as immediate objects of intellectual perception, as the indivi¬ 
duals which compose the material world are of our external senses. 
By connecting this opinion with their other doctrines concerning 
universals, they were unfortunately enabled to exhibit it in so 
mysterious a form, as not only to impose on themselves, but to 
perplex the understandings of all the learned in Europe, for a 
long succession of ages. 

The conclusion to which we are led by the foregoing observations 
is, that the foundation of all human knowledge must be laid in the 
examination of particular objects and particular facts; and that it 
is only as far as our general principles are resolvable into these 
primary elements, that they possess either truth or utility. It must 
not, however, be understood to be implied in this conclusion, that 
all our knowledge must ultimately rest on our own proper expe¬ 
rience. If this were the case, the progress of science, and the pro¬ 
gress of human improvement, must have been wonderfully retarded; 
for, if it had been necessary for each individual to form a classifica¬ 
tion of objects, in consequence of observations and abstractions 
of his own, and to infer from the actual examination of particular 
facts, the general truths on which his conduct proceeds; human 
affairs would at this day remain nearly in the same state to which 
they were brought by the experience of the first generation. In 
fact, this is very nearly the situation of the species in all those part 3 
of the world, in which the existence of the race depends on the 
separate efforts which each individual makes, in procuring for him¬ 
self the necessaries of life; and in which, of consequence, the habits 
and acquirements of each individual must be the result of his own 
personal experience. In a cultivated society, one of the first acqui¬ 
sitions which children make, is the use of language; by which means 
they are familiarised, from their earliest years, to the consideration 
of classes of objects, and of general truths; and before that time of 
life at which the savage is possessed of the knowledge necessary for 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


117 

his own preservation, are enabled to appropriate to themselves the 
accumulated discoveries of ages. 

Notwithstanding, however, the stationary condition in which the 
race must, of necessity, continue, prior to the separation of arts and 
professions; the natural disposition of the mind to ascend from 
particular truths to general conclusions, could not fail to lead indi¬ 
viduals, even in the rudest state of society, to collect the results 
of their experience, for their own instruction and that of others. 
[But, without the use of general terms, the only possible way of 
communicating such conclusions, would be by means of some par¬ 
ticular example, of which the general application was striking and 
obvious. In other words, the wisdom of such ages will necessarily 
be expressed in the form of fables or parables , or in the still simpler 
form of proverbial instances; and not in the scientific form of general 
maxims.] In this way, undoubtedly, much useful instruction, both 
of a prudential and moral kind, might be conveyed: at the same 
time, it is obvious, that while general truths continue to be ex¬ 
pressed merely by particular exemplifications, they would afford 
little or no opportunity to one generation to improve on the specu¬ 
lations of another; as no effort of the understanding could combine 
them together, or employ them as premises, in order to obtain 
other conclusions more remote and comprehensive. For this pur¬ 
pose, it is absolutely necessary that the scope or moral of the fable 
should be separated entirely from its accessory circumstances, and 
stated in the form of a general proposition. 

From what has now been said, it appears how much the progress 
of human reason, which necessarily accompanies the progress of 
society, is owing to the introduction of general terms, and to the use 
of general propositions. In consequence of the gradual improve¬ 
ments which take place in language as an instrument of thought, the 
classifications both of things and facts with which the infant faculties 
of each successive race are conversant, are more just and more 
comprehensive than those of their predecessors: the discoveries 
which, in one age, were confined to the studious and enlightened 
few, becoming in the next, the established creed of the learned; 
and in the third, forming part of the elementary principles of edu¬ 
cation. Indeed, among those who enjoy the advantages of early 
instruction, some of the most remote and wonderful conclusions of 
the human intellect, are, even in infancy, as completely familiarised 
to the mind, as the most obvious phenomena which the material 
world exhibits to their senses. 

If these remarks be just, they open an unbounded prospect of 
intellectual improvement to future ages; as they point out a pro¬ 
vision made by nature to facilitate and abridge, more and more, 
the process of study, in proportion as the truths to be acquired 
increase in number. Nor is this prospect derived from theory 
alone. It is encouraged by the past history of all the sciences; 
in a more particular manner, by that of mathematics and physics. 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


118 


in which the state of discovery, and the prevailing methods of 
instruction, may, at all times, be easily compared together. In this 
last observation I have been anticipated by a late eminent mathe¬ 
matician, whose eloquent and philosophical statement of the argu¬ 
ment cannot fail to carry conviction to those who are qualified to 
judge of the facts on which his conclusion is founded. 

“ To such of my readers as may be slow in admitting the possi¬ 
bility of this progressive improvement in the human race, allow me 
to state, as an example, the history of that science in which the 
advances of discovery are the most certain, and in which they may 
be measured with the greatest precision. Those elementary truths 
of geometry and of astronomy, which, in India and Egypt, formed 
an occult science, upon which an ambitious priesthood founded its 
influence, were become', in the times of Archimedes and Hippar¬ 
chus, the subjects of common education in the public schools of 
Greece. In the last century, a few years of study were sufficient 
for comprehending all that Archimedes and Hipparchus knew; 
and, at present, two years employed under an able teacher, carry 
the student beyond those conclusions which limited the inquiries of 
Leibnitz and of Newton. Let any person reflect on these facts, 
let him follow the immense chain which connects the inquiries of 
Euler with those of a priest of Memphis; let him observe, at each 
epoch, how genius outstrips the present age, and how it is over¬ 
taken by mediocrity in the next: he will perceive, that nature has 
furnished us with the means of abridging and facilitating our intel¬ 
lectual labour, and that there is no reason for apprehending that 
such simplifications can ever have an end. He will perceive, that 
at the moment when a multitude of particular solutions, and of 
insulated facts, begin to distract the attention, and to overcharge 
the memory, the former gradually lose themselves in one general 
method, and the latter unite in one general law: and that these 
generalisations continually succeeding one to another, like the 
successive multiplications of a number by itself, have no other 
limit, than that infinity which the human faculties are unable to 
comprehend. 5 * See note m. 

VII. Continuation of the same subject . Differences in the Intellec¬ 
tual Characters of Individuals , arising from their different Habits of 
Abstraction and Generalisation. —In mentioning as one of the prin¬ 
cipal effects of civilisation, its tendency to familiarise the mind to 
general terms and to general propositions, I did not mean to say, 
that this influence extends equally to all the classes of men in 
society. On the contrary, it is evidently confined, in a great mea¬ 
sure, to those who receive a liberal education; while the minds of 
the lower orders, like those of savages, are so habitually occupied 
about particular objects and particular events, that, although they 
are sometimes led, from imitation, to employ general expressions, 
the use which they make of them is much more the result of 
memory than judgment; and it is but seldom that they are able 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


119 


to comprehend fully, any process of reasoning in which they are 
involved. 

It is hardly necessary for me to remark, that this observation, 
with respect to the incapacity of the vulgar for general speculations, 
(like all observations of a similar nature), must be received with 
some restrictions. In such a state of society as that in which we 
live, there is hardly any individual to be found to whom some 
general terms, and some general truths, are not perfectly familiar ; 
and, therefore, the foregoing conclusions are to be considered as 
descriptive of those habits of thought alone, which are most pre¬ 
valent in their mind. To abridge the labour of reasoning, and of 
memory, by directing the attention to general principles, instead of 
particular truths, is the professed *aim of all philosophy; and accord¬ 
ing as individuals have more or less of the philosophic spirit, their 
habitual speculations (whatever the nature of their pursuits may be) 
will relate to the former, or to the latter, of these objects. 

There are, therefore, among the men who are accustomed to the 
exercise of their intellectual powers, two classes, whose habits of 
thought are remarkably distinguished from each other; the one 
class comprehending what we commonly call men of business, or, 
more properly, men of detail; the other, men of abstraction, or, in 
other words, philosophers. 

The advantages which, in certain respects, the. latter of these 
possess over the former, have been already pointed out; but it 
must not be supposed, that these advantages are always purchased 
without some inconvenience. As the solidity of our general prin¬ 
ciples depends on the accuracy of the particular observations into 
which they are ultimately resolvable, so their utility is to be esti¬ 
mated by the practical applications of which they admit: and it 
unfortunately happens, that the same turn of mind which is favour¬ 
able to philosophical pursuits, unless it be kept under proper 
regulation, is extremely apt to disqualify us for applying our 
knowledge to use, in the exercise of the arts, and in the conduct 
of affairs. 

In order to perceive the truth of these remarks, it is almost 
sufficient to recollect, that as classification, and, of consequence, 
general reasoning, presuppose the exercise of abstraction ; a natural 
disposition to indulge in them, cannot fail to lead the mind to over¬ 
look the specific differences of things, in attending to their common 
qualities. To succeed, however, in practice, a familiar and ciicum* 
stantial acquaintance with the particular objects which fall under 
our observation, is indispensably necessary. 

But, farther : As all general principles are founded on classifica¬ 
tions which imply the exercise of abstraction; it is necessary to 
regard them, in their practical applications, merely as approxima¬ 
tions to the truth; the defects of which must be supplied by habits 
acquired by personal experience. In considering, for example, 

the theory of the mechanical powers; it is usual to simplify the 


120 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


objects of our conception, by abstracting from friction, and from 
the weight of the different parts of which they are composed. 
Levers are considered as mathematical lines, perfectly inflexible; 
and ropes, as mathematical lines, perfectly flexible;—and by means 
of these, and similar abstractions, a subject, which is in itself ex¬ 
tremely complicated, is brought within the reach of elementary 
geometry. In the theory of politics, we find it necessary to abstract 
from many of the peculiarities which distinguish different forms of 
government from each other, and to reduce them to certain general 
classes, according to their prevailing tendency. Although all the 
governments we have ever seen, have had more or less of mixture 
in their composition, we reason concerning pure monarchies, pure 
aristocracies, and pure democracies, as if there really existed poli¬ 
tical establishments corresponding to our definitions. Without such 
a classification, it would be impossible for us to fix our attention, 
amidst the multiplicity of particulars which the subject presents to 
us, or to arrive at any general principles, which might serve to guide 
our inquiries in comparing different institutions together. 

H^rlt is for a similar reason, that the speculative farmer reduces 
the infinite variety of soils to a few general descriptions; the 
physician , the infinite variety of bodily constitutions to a few tem¬ 
peraments ; and the moralist, the infinite variety of human characters 
to a few of the ruling principles of action. 

Notwithstanding, however, the obvious advantages we derive 
from these classifications, and the general conclusions to which they 
lead, it is evidently impossible that principles, which derived their 
origin from effoits of abstraction, should apply literally to practice; 
or, indeed, that they should afford us any considerable assistance 
in conduct, without a certain degree of practical and experimental 
skill. Hence it is that the mere theorist so frequently exposes 
himself, in real life, to the ridicule of men whom he despises, and, 
in the general estimation of the world, falls below the level of the 
common drudges in business and the arts. The walk, indeed, of 
these unenlightened practitioners, must necessarily be limited by 
their accidental opportunities of experience; but, so far as they go, 
they operate with facility and success, while the merely speculative 
philosopher, although possessed of principles which enable him to 
approximate to the truth in an infinite variety of untried cases, and 
although he sees with pity the narrow views of the multitude, and 
the ludicrous pretensions with which they frequently oppose their 
trifling successes to his theoretical speculations, finds himself per¬ 
fectly at a loss, when he is called upon, by the simplest occurrences 
of ordinary life, to carry his principles into execution. Hence the 
origin of that maxim “ which,” as Mr. Hume remarks, “ has been 
so industriously propagated by the dunces of every age, that a man 
of genius is unfit for business.” 

In what consists practical or experimental skill, it is not easy to 
explain completely; but among other things it obviously implies 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


121 

a talent for minute and comprehensive and rapid observation ; a 
memory at once retentive and ready, in order to present to us 
accurately, and without reflection, our theoretical knowledge; a 
presence of mind not to be disconcerted by unexpected occurrences, 
and, in some cases, an uncommon degree of perfection in the 
external senses, and in the mechanical capacities of the body. All 
these elements of practical skill, it is obvious, are to be acquired 
only by habits of active exertion, and by a familiar acquaintance 
with real occurrences; for as all the practical principles of our 
nature, both intellectual and animal, have a reference to particulars, 
and not to generals, so it is in the active scenes of life alone, and 
amidst the details of business, that they can be cultivated and 
improved. 

[The remarks which have been already made are sufficient to 
illustrate the impossibility of acquiring a talent for business , or for any 
of the practical arts of life, without actual experience . They show 
also that mere experience , without theory , may qualify a man , in 
certain cases, for distinguishing himself in both.] It is not, how¬ 
ever, to be imagined that in this way individuals are to be formed 
for the uncommon, or for the important situations of society, or 
even for enriching the arts by new inventions; for as their address 
and dexterity are founded entirely on imitation, or derived from 
the lessons which experience has suggested to them, they cannot 
possibly extend to new combinations of circumstances. Mere 
experience, therefore, can, at best, prepare the mind for the subor¬ 
dinate departments of life, for conducting the established routine of 
business, or for a servile repetition in the arts of common operations. 

In the character of Mr. George Grenville, which Mr. Burke 
introduced in his celebrated speech on American Taxation, a lively 
picture is drawn of the insufficiency of mere experience to qualify 
a man for new and untried situations in the administration of 
government. The observations he makes on this subject are 
expressed with his usual beauty and felicity of language, and are 
of so general a nature that, with some trifling alterations, they 
may be extended to all the practical pursuits of life. 

“ Mr. Grenville was bred to the law, which is, in my opinion, 
one of the finest and noblest of human sciences; a science which 
does more to quicken and invigorate the understanding, than all 
the other kinds of learning put together; but it is not apt, except 
in persons very happily born, to open and to liberalise the mind 
exactly in the same proportion. Passing from that study, he did 
not go very largely into the world, but plunged into business* I 
mean into the business of office, and the limited and fixed methods 
and forms established there. Much knowledge is to be _ had, 
undoubtedly, in that line, and there is no knowledge which is not 
valuable. But it may be truly said that men too much conversant 
in office rarely have minds of remarkable enlargement. Their habits 
of office are apt to give them a turn to think the substance of 


122 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


business not to be much more important than the forms in which 
it is conducted. These forms are adapted to ordinary occasions, 
and, therefore, persons who are nurtured in office do admirably 
well, as long as things go on in their common order, but when the 
high roads are broken up, and the waters out, when a new and 
troubled scene is opened, and the file affords no precedent, then it 
is that a greater knowledge of mankind, and a far more extensive 
comprehension of things is requisite, than ever office gave, or than 
office can ever give.” 

Nor is it in new combinations of circumstances alone, that 
general principles assist us in the conduct of affairs; they render 
the application of our practical skill more unerring and more 
perfect. For as general principles limit the utility of practical 
skill to supply the imperfections of theory, they diminish the 
number of cases in which this skill is to be employed, and thus, at 
once, facilitate its improvement wherever it is requisite, and lessen 
the errors to which it is liable, by contracting the field within 
which it is possible to commit them. 

It would appear, then, that there are two opposite extremes into 
which men are apt to fall, in preparing themselves for the duties of 
active life. The one arises from habits of abstraction and general¬ 
isation carried to an excess; the other from a minute, an exclusive, 
and an unenlightened attention to the objects and events which 
happen to fall under their actual experience. 

In a perfect system of education, care should be taken to guard 
against both extremes, and to unite habits of abstraction with 
habits of business, in such a manner as to enable men to consider 
things, either in general, or in detail, as the occasion may require. 
Whichever of these habits may happen to gain an undue ascendant 
over the mind, it will necessarily produce a character limited in its 
powers, and fitted only for particular exertions. Hence some of 
the apparent inconsistencies which we may frequently remark in 
the intellectual capacities of the same person. One man, from 
an early indulgence in abstract speculation, possesses a know¬ 
ledge of general principles, and a talent for general reasoning, 
united with a fluency and eloquence in the use of general terms, 
which seem, to the vulgar, to announce abilities fitted for any 
given situation in life : while, in the conduct of the simplest 
affairs, he exhibits every mark of irresolution and incapacity. 
Another, not only acts with propriety, and skill, in circumstances 
which require a minute attention to details, but possesses an acute¬ 
ness of reasoning, and a facility of expression on all subjects, in 
which nothing but what is particular is involved; while, on general 
topics, he is perfectly unable either to reason, or to judge. It is 
this last turn of mind, which I think we have, in most instances, in 
view, when we speak of good sense, or common sense, in opposition 
to science and philosophy. Both philosophy and good sense imply 
the exercise of our reasoning powers; and they differ from each 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


123 


other only, according as these powers are applied to particulars or 
to generals. It is on good sense (in the acceptation in which I 
have now explained the term), that the success of men in the 
inferior walks of life chiefly depends; hut that it does not always 
indicate a capacity for abstract science, or for general speculation, 
or for able conduct in situations which require comprehensive views, 
is matter even of vulgar remark. 

Although, however, each of these defects has a tendency to 
limit the utility of the individuals in whom it is to be found, to 
certain stations in society; no comparison can be made, in point of 
original value, between the intellectual capacities of the two classes 
of men to which they characteristically belong. The one is the 
defect of a vigorous, an ambitious, and a comprehensive genius, 
improperly directed; the other, of an understanding, minute and 
circumscribed in its views, timid in its exertions, and formed for 
servile imitation. Nor is the former defect, (however difficult it 
may be to remove it when confirmed by long habit,) by any means 
so incurable as the latter; for it arises, not from original con¬ 
stitution, but from some fault in early education; while every 
tendency to the opposite extreme is more or less characteristical of 
a mind, useful, indeed, in a high degree, when confined to its 
proper sphere, but destined, by the hand that formed it, to borrow 
its lights from another. 

As an additional proof of the natural superiority which men of 
general views possess over the common drudges in business, it may 
be farther observed, that the habits of inattention incident to the 
former arise in part from the little interest which they take in 
particular objects and particular occurrences, and are not wholly to 
be ascribed to an incapacity of attention. When the mind has been 
long accustomed to the consideration of classes of objects and of 
comprehensive theorems, it cannot, without some degree of effort, 
descend to that humble walk of experience, or of action, in which 
the meanest of mankind are on a level with the greatest. In im¬ 
portant situations, accordingly, men of the most general views are 
found not to be inferior to the vulgar in their attention to details; 
because the objects and occurrences which such situations present, 
rouse their passions, and interest their curiosity, from the magni¬ 
tude of the consequences to which they lead. 

[When theoretical knowledge and practical skill are happily com¬ 
bined in the same person, the intellectual power of man appears in 
its full perfection; and fits him equally to conduct, with a masterly 
hand, the details of ordinary business, and to contend successfully 
with the untried difficulties of new and hazardous situations.] In 
conducting the former, mere experience may frequently be a suffi¬ 
cient guide, but experience and speculation must be combined 
together to prepare us for the latter. “ Expert men,” says Lord 
Bacon, “ can execute and judge of particulars one by one; but the 
general counsels, and the plots, and the marshalling of affairs, come 
best from those that are learned.” 


124 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


VIII. Continuation of the same subject. Use and abuse of general 
principles in Politics * —The foregoing remarks, on the dangers to 
be apprehended from a rash application of general principles, hold 
equally with respect to most of the practical arts. Among these, 
however, there is one of far superior dignity to the rest: which, 
partly on account of its importance, and partly on account of some 
peculiarities in its nature, seems to be entitled to a more particular 
consideration. The art I allude to, is that of legislation; an art 
which differs from all others in some very essential respects, and 
to which, the reasonings in the last section must be applied with 
many restrictions. 

Before proceeding farther, it is necessary for me to premise, that 
it is chiefly in compliance with common language and common pre¬ 
judices, that I am sometimes led, in the following observations, to 
contrast theory with experience. In the proper sense of the word 
theory, it is so far from standing in opposition to experience, that 
it implies a knowledge of principles, of which the most extensive 
experience alone could put us in possession. Prior to the time of 
Lord Bacon, indeed, an acquaintance with facts was not considered 
as essential to the formation of theories; and from these ages has 
descended to us, an indiscriminate prejudice against general prin¬ 
ciples, even in those cases in which they have been fairly obtained 
in the way of induction. 

[But not to dispute about words: there are plainly two sets of 
political reasoners; one of which consider the actual institutions of 
mankind as the only safe foundation for our conclusions, and think 
every plan of legislation chimerical, which is not copied from one 
which has already been realised; while the other apprehend that, 
in many cases, we may reason safely a priori from the known prin¬ 
ciples of human nature combined with the particular circumstances 
of the times.] The former are commonly understood as contending 
for experience in opposition to theory; the latter are accused of 
trusting to theory unsupported by experience; but it ought to be 
remembered, that the political theorist, if he proceeds cautiously 
and philosophically, founds his conclusions ultimately on expe¬ 
rience, no less than the political empiric:—SIT as the astronomer, 
who predicts an eclipse from his knowledge of the principles of the 
science, rests his expectation of the event, on facts which have been 

* The events which have happened since the publication of the first edition of this 
volume in 1792, might have enabled me to confirm many of the observations in this 
section, by an appeal to facts still fresh in the recollection of my readers; and in one 
or two instances, by slight verbal corrections, to guard against the possibility of uncan- 
did misinterpretation : but, for various reasons, which it is unnecessary to state at 
present, I feel it to be a duty which I owe to myself, to send the whole discussion again 
to the press in its original form. That the doctrine it inculcates is favourable to the 
good order and tranquillity of society, cannot be disputed ; and, as far as I myself am 
personally interested, I have no wish to vitiate the record which it exhibits of my 
opinions. 

On some points which are touched upon very slightly here, I have explained myself 
more fully, in the fourth section of my biographical account of Mr. Smith, read before 
the Royal Society of Edinburgh in 1793, and published in the third volume of their 
Transactions. (Second Edition, 1802.) 


OF ABSTRACTION. 125 

previously ascertained by observation, no less than if he inferred it, 
without any reasoning, from his knowledge of a cycle. 

There is, indeed, a certain degree of practical skill which habits 
of business alone can give, and without which the most enlightened 
politician must always appear to disadvantage when he attempts to 
carry his plans into execution. And as this skill is often (in conse¬ 
quence of the ambiguity of language) denoted by the word expe¬ 
rience ; while it is seldom possessed by those men, who have most 
carefully studied the theory of legislation; it has been very gene¬ 
rally concluded, that politics is merely a matter of routine, in 
which philosophy is rather an obstacle to success. The statesman, 
who has been formed among official details, is compared to the 
practical engineer; the speculative legislator, to the theoretical 
mechanician who has passed his life among books and diagrams. 
In order to ascertain how far this opinion is just, it may be of use 
to compare the art of legislation with those practical applications of 
mechanical principles, by which the opposers of political theories 
have so often endeavoured to illustrate their reasonings. 

I. In the first place, then, it may be remarked, that the errors to 
which we are liable, in the use of general mechanical principles , are 
owing, in most instances, to the effect which habits of abstraction 
are apt to have, in withdrawing the attention from those applica¬ 
tions of our knowledge, by which alone we can learn to correct 
the imperfections of theory. Such errors, therefore, are, in a pecu¬ 
liar degree, incident to men who have been led by natural taste, 
or by early habits, to prefer the speculations of the closet to the 
bustle of active life, and to the fatigue of minute and circumstan¬ 
tial observation. 

In politics, too, one species of principles is often misapplied from 
an inattention to circumstances; those which are deduced from a 
few examples of particular governments, and which are occasionally 
quoted as universal political axioms, which every wise legislator 
ought to assume as the groundwork of his reasonings. But this 
abuse of general principles should by no means be ascribed, like the 
absurdities of the speculative mechanician, to over-refinement, and 
the love of theory; for it arises from weaknesses, which philosophy 
alone can remedy; an unenlightened veneration for maxims which 
are supposed to have the sanction of time in their favour, and a 
passive acquiescence in received opinions. 

There is another class of principles, from which political conclu¬ 
sions have sometimes been deduced; and which, notwithstanding 
the common prejudice against them, are a much surer foundation 
for our reasonings: I allude, at present, to those principles which 
we obtain from an examination of the human constitution, and of 
the general laws which regulate the course of human affairs; prin¬ 
ciples, which are certainly the result of a much more extensive 
induction, than any of the inferences that can be drawn from the 
history of actual establishments. 


126 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


In applying, indeed, such principles to practice, it is necessary 
(as well as in mechanics) to pay attention to the peculiarities of the 
case; but it is by no means necessary to pay the same scrupulous 
attention to minute circumstances, which is essential in the mecha¬ 
nical arts, or in the management of private business. There is 
even a danger of dwelling too much on details, and of rendering 
the mind incapable of those abstract and comprehensive views of 
human affairs, which can alone furnish the statesman with fixed 
and certain maxims for the regulation of his conduct. “ When a 
man,” says Mr. Hume, “ deliberates concerning his conduct in any 
'particular affair, and forms schemes in politics, trade, economy, or 
any business in life, he never ought to draw his arguments too fine, 
or connect too long a chain of consequences together. Something 
is sure to happen, that will disconcert his reasoning, and produce 
an event different from what he expected. But when we reason 
upon general subjects, one may justly affirm, that our speculations 
can scarce ever be too fine, provided they are just; and that the 
difference betwixt a common man and a man of genius, is chiefly 
seen in the shallowness or depth of the principles upon which they 
proceed.—’Tis certain that general principles, however intricate 
they may seem, must always, if they are just and sound, prevail in 
the general course of things, though they may fail in particular 
cases; and it is the chief business of philosophers to regard the 
general course of things. I may add, that it is also the chief busi¬ 
ness of politicians; especially in the domestic government of the 
state, where the public good, which is, or ought to be, their object, 
depends on the occurrence of a multitude of cases, not, as in foreign 
politics, upon accidents, and chances, and the caprices of a few per¬ 
sons.”—(Political Discourses.) 

II. The difficulties which, in the mechanical arts, limit the appli¬ 
cation of general principles, remain invariably the same from age 
to age: and whatever observations we have made on them in the 
course of our past experience, lay a sure foundation for future prac¬ 
tical skill; and supply, in so far as they reach, the defects of our 
theories. In the art of government, however, the practical diffi¬ 
culties which occur, are of a very different nature. They do not 
present to the statesman, the same steady subject of examination, 
which the effects of friction do to the engineer. They arise chiefly 
from the passions and opinions of men, which are in a state of per¬ 
petual change: and, therefore, the address which is necessary to 
overcome them, depends less on the accuracy of our observations 
with respect to the past, than on the sagacity of our conjectures 
with respect to the future. In the present age, more particularly, 
when the rapid communication, and the universal diffusion of 
knowledge, by means of the press, render the situation of political 
societies essentially different from what it ever was formerly, and 
secure infallibly, against every accident, the progress of human 
reason; we may venture to predict, that they are to be the most 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


127 

successful statesmen, who, paying all due regard to past experience, 
search for the rules of their conduct chiefly in the peculiar circum¬ 
stances of their own times, and in an enlightened anticipation of 
the future history of mankind. 

III. In the mechanical arts, if, at any time, we are at a loss 
about the certainty of a particular fact, we have it always in our 
power to bring it to the test of experiment. But it is very seldom 
that we can obtain in this way any useful conclusion in politics: 
not only because it is difficult to find two cases in which the com¬ 
binations of circumstances are precisely the same, but because our 
acquaintance with the political experience of mankind is much more 
imperfect than is commonly imagined. By far the greater part of 
what is called matter of fact in politics, is nothing else than theory; 
and, very frequently, in this science, when we think we are oppos¬ 
ing experience to speculation, we are only opposing one theory to 
another. 

To be satisfied of the truth of this observation, it is almost suffi¬ 
cient to recollect how extremely difficult it is to convey, by a general 
description, a just idea of the actual state of any government. That 
every such description must necessarily he more or less theoretical, will 
appear from the following remarks. 

1. Of the governments which have hitherto appeared in the his¬ 
tory of mankind, few or none have taken their rise from political 
wisdom, but have been the gradual result of time and experience, 
of circumstances and emergencies. In process of time, indeed, 
every government acquires a systematical appearance : for, although 
its different parts arose from circumstances which may be regarded 
as accidental and irregular; yet there must exist, among these parts, 
a certain degree of consistency and analogy. Wherever a govern¬ 
ment has existed for ages, and men have enjoyed tranquillity under 
it, it is a proof that its principles are not essentially at variance with 
each other. Every new institution which was introduced, must 
have had a certain reference to the laws and usages existing before, 
otherwise it could not have been permanent in its operation. If 
any one, contrary to the spirit of the rest, should have occasionally 
mingled with them, it must soon have fallen into desuetude and 
oblivion; and those alone would remain, which accorded in their 
general tendency. “ Quae usu obtinuere,” says Lord Bacon, “ si 
non bona, at saltern apta inter se sunt.”* 

The necessity of studying particular constitutions of government, 
by the help of systematical descriptions of them (such descriptions, 
for example, as are given of that of England by Montesquieu and 
Blackstone), arises from the same circumstances, which render it 
expedient, in most instances, to .study particular languages, by con¬ 
sulting the writings of grammarians. In both cases, the knowledge 
we wish to acquire, comprehends an infinite number of particulars, 

* “ Such things as have resulted from practical exigencies, if not good, must at least 
be suitable to each other.” 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


128 


the consideration of which, in detail, would distract the attention, 
and overload the memory. The systematical descriptions of politi¬ 
cians, like the general rules of grammarians, are in a higher degree 
useful, for arranging, and simplifying, the objects of our study ; but 
in both cases, we must remember, that the knowledge we acquire 
in this manner, is to be received with great limitations, and that it 
is no more possible to convey, in a systematical form, a just and 
complete idea of a particular government, than it is to teach a 
language completely by means of general rules, without any prac¬ 
tical assistance from reading or conversation. 

2. The nature and spirit of a government, as it is actually exer¬ 
cised at a particular period, cannot always be collected ; perhaps it 
can seldom be collected from an examination of written laws, or of 
the established forms of a constitution. These may continue the 
same for a long course of ages, while the government may be modi¬ 
fied in its exercise, to a great extent, by gradual and indescribable 
alterations in the ideas, manners, and character, of the people; or 
by a change in the relations which different orders of the community 
bear to each other. In every country whatever, beside the esta¬ 
blished laws, the political state of the people is affected by an infinite 
variety of circumstances, of which no words can convey a conception, 
and which are to be collected only from actual observation. Even 
in this way, it is not easy for a person who has received his educa¬ 
tion in one country, to study the government of another; on account 
of the difficulty which he must necessarily experience, in entering 
into the associations which influence the mind under a different 
system of manners, and in ascertaining (especially upon political 
subjects) the complex ideas conveyed by a foreign language. 

In consequence of the causes which have now been mentioned, 
it sometimes happens, that there are essential circumstances in the 
actual state of a government, about which the constitutional laws 
are not only silent, but which are directly contrary to all the written 
laws, and to the spirit of the constitution as delineated by theoretical 
writers. 

IV. The art of government differs from the mechanical arts in this, 
that, in the former, it is much more difficult to refer effects to 
their causes, than in the latter; and, of consequence, it rarely 
happens, even when we have an opportunity of seeing a political 
experiment made, that we can draw from it any certain inference, 
with respect to the justness of the principles by which it was sug¬ 
gested. In those complicated machines, to which the structure of 
civil society has been frequently compared, as all the different parts 
of which they are composed are subjected to physical laws, the 
errors of the artist must necessarily become apparent in the last 
result; but in the political system, as well as in the animal body, 
where the general constitution is sound and healthy, there is a sort 
of vis medicatrix , which is sufficient for the cure of partial disorders; 
and in the one case, as well as in the other, the errors of human art 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


129 


are frequently corrected and concealed by the wisdom of nature. 
Among the many false estimates which we daily make of human 
ability, there is perhaps none more groundless than the exaggerated 
conceptions we are apt to form of that species of political wisdom, 
which is supposed to be the fruit of long experience and of pro- * 
fessional habits. “ Go,” said the chancellor Oxenstiern to his son, 
when he was sending him ‘to a congress of ambassadors, and when 
the young man was expressing his diffidence of his own abilities 
for such an employment; “ Go, and see with your own eyes, Quam 
parva sapientia regitur mundus /”* The truth is (however paradox¬ 
ical the remark may appear at first view), that the speculative errors 
of statesmen are frequently less sensible in their effects, and, of 
consequence, more likely to escape without detection, than those of 
individuals who occupy inferior stations in society. The effects of 
misconduct in private life are easily traced to their, proper source, 
and therefore the world is seldom far wrong in the judgments which 
it forms of the prudence or of the imprudence of private characters. 
But in considering the affairs of a great nation, it is so difficult to 
trace events to their proper causes, and to distinguish the effects of 
political wisdom from those which are the natural result of the 
situation of the people, that it is scarcely possible, excepting in the 
case of a very long administration, to appreciate the talents of a 
statesman from the success or the failure of his measures. In every 
society, too, which, in consequence of the general spirit of its 
government, enjoys the blessings of tranquillity and liberty, a great 
- part of the political order which we are apt to ascribe to legislative 
sagacity, is the natural result of the selfish pursuits of individuals ; 
nay, in every such society (as I already hinted), the natural ten¬ 
dency to improvement is so strong, as to overcome many powerful 
obstacles, which the imperfection of human institutions opposes to 
its progress. 

From these remarks, it seems to follow, that, although in the 
mechanical arts, the errors of theory may frequently be corrected 
by repeated trials, without having recourse to general principles; 
yet, in the machine of government, there is so great a variety of 
powers at work, beside the influence of the statesman, that it is 
vain to expect the art of legislation should be carried to its greatest 
possible perfection by experience alone. 

Still, however, it may be said, that in the most imperfect govern¬ 
ments of modern Europe, we have an experimental proof, that 
they secure, to a very great degree, the principal objects of the 
social union. Why hazard these certain advantages, for the uncer¬ 
tain effects of changes, suggested by mere theory; and not rest 
satisfied with a measure of political happiness, which appears, froip 
the history of the world, to be greater than has commonly fallen to 
the lot of nations ? 

With those who would carry their zeal against reformation so far, 

* “ With how slight a degree of wisdom the world is governed !’' 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


130 


it is impossible to argue; and it only remains for us to regret, that 
the number of such reasoners has, in all ages of the world, been so 
great, and their influence on human affairs so extensive. 

“ There are some men,” says Dr. Johnson, “ of narrow views, 
and grovelling conceptions, who, without the instigation of personal 
malice, treat every new attempt as wild and chimerical; and look 
upon every endeavour to depart from the beaten track, as the rash 
effort of a warm imagination, or the glittering speculation of an 
exalted mind, that may please and dazzle for a time, but can 
produce no real or lasting advantage. 

“ These men value themselves upon a perpetual scepticism; upon 
believing nothing but their own senses; upon calling for demon¬ 
stration where it cannot possibly be obtained ; and, sometimes, 
upon holding out against it when it is laid before them; upon 
inventing arguments against the success of any new undertaking; 
and, where arguments cannot be found, upon treating it with 
contempt and ridicule. 

“ Such have been the most formidable enemies of the great bene¬ 
factors of the world; for their notions and discourse are so agree¬ 
able to the lazy, the envious, and the timorous, that they seldom 
fail of becoming popular, and directing the opinions of mankind.” 
(Life of Drake, by Dr. Johnson.) 

With respect to this sceptical disposition, as applicable to the 
present state of society, it is of importance to add, that, in every 
government, the stability and the influence of established authority 
must depend on the coincidence between its measures and the tide *■ 
of public opinion; and that, in modern Europe, in consequence of 
the invention of printing, and the liberty of the press, public 
opinion has acquired an ascendant in human affairs, which it never 
possessed in those states of antiquity from which most of our poli¬ 
tical examples are drawn. The danger, indeed, of sudden and rash 
innovations cannot be too strongly inculcated; and the views of 
those men who are forward to promote them, cannot be reprobated 
with too great severity. But it is possible also to fall into the 
opposite extreme ; and to bring upon society the very evils we are 
anxious to prevent, by an obstinate opposition to those gradual and 
necessary reformations which the genius of the times demands. 
The violent revolutions which, at different periods, have convulsed 
modern Europe, have arisen, not from a spirit of innovation in 
sovereigns and statesmen; but from their bigoted attachment to 
antiquated forms, and to principles borrowed from less enlightened 
ages. It is this reverence for abuses which have been sanctioned 
by time, accompanied with an inattention to the progress of public 
opinion, which has, in most instances, blinded the rulers of man¬ 
kind, till government has lost all its efficiency; and till the rage of 
innovation has become too general and too violent to be satisfied 
with changes, which, if proposed at an earlier period, would have 
united, in the support of established institutions, every friend to 
order, and to the prosperity of his country. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


131 

These observations I state with the greater confidence, that the 
substance of them is contained in the following aphorisms of Lord 
Bacon; a philosopher who (if we except, perhaps, the late Mr. 
Turgot) seems, more than any other, to have formed enlightened 
views with respect to the possible attainments of mankind; and 
whose fame cannot fail to increase as the world grows older, by 
being attached, not to a particular system of variable opinions, but 
to the general and infallible progress of human reason. 

“ Quis novator tempus imitatur, quod novationes ita insinuat, ut 
sensus fallant ? 

“ Novator maximus tempus; quidni igitur tempus imitemur ? 

<e Morosa morum retentio, res turbulenta est, aeque ac novitas. 

“ Cum per se res mutentur in deterius, si consilio in melius non 
mutentur, quis finis erit mali?”* 

The general conclusion to which these observations lead is suffi¬ 
ciently obvious; that [the perfection of political wisdom does not 
consist in an indiscriminate zeal against reformers, but in a gradual 
and prudent accommodation of established institutions to the varying 
opinions, manners, and circumstances of mankind. In the actual ap¬ 
plication, however, of this principle, many difficulties occur, which 
it requires a very rare combination of talents to surmount: more 
particularly in the present age; when the press has, to so wonder¬ 
ful a degree, emancipated human reason from the tyranny of 
ancient prejudices; and h as roused a spirit of free discussion, 
unexampled in the history of former times.] 

That this sudden change in the state of the world should be 
accompanied with some temporary disorders is by no means sur¬ 
prising. While the multitude continue imperfectly enlightened, 
they will be occasionally misled by the artifices of demagogues; and 
even good men, intoxicated with ideas of theoretical perfection, 
may be expected sometimes to sacrifice, unintentionally, the tran¬ 
quillity of their contemporaries, to an over-ardent zeal for the good 
of posterity. Notwithstanding, however, these evils, which every 
friend to humanity must lament, I would willingly believe, that 
the final effects resulting from this spirit of reformation, cannot 
fail to be favourable to human happiness; and there are some 
peculiarities in the present condition of mankind, which appear to 
me to justify more sanguine hopes upon the subject, than it would 
have been reasonable for a philosopher to indulge at any former 
period. An attention to these peculiarities is absolutely necessary 
to enable us to form a competent judgment on the question to 
which the foregoing observations relate; and it leads to the illus¬ 
tration of a doctrine to which I have frequently referred in this 

* “ What innovator imitates time, which so gently introduces innovations, that the 
escape notice ? ...» 

« Time is the greatest innovator,—why then should we not imitate time ? 

« The sullen retention of customs is as great a source of disturbance as innovation is. 

« When affairs become spontaneously deteriorated, if they be not improved by wise 
management, what end will there be of the evil ? ” 


PART r. 


CHAP. IV. 


132 


work; the gradual improvement in the condition of the species, 
which may be expected from the progress of reason and the diffu¬ 
sion of knowledge. 

Among the many circumstances favourable to human happiness 
in the present state of the world, the most important, perhaps, is, 
that the same events which have contributed to loosen the founda¬ 
tions of the ancient fabrics of despotism, have made it practicable, 
in a much greater degree than it ever was formerly, to reduce the 
principles of legislation to a science, and to anticipate the probable 
course of popular opinions. It is easy for the statesman to form 
to himself a distinct and steady idea of the ultimate objects at 
which a wise legislator ought to aim, and to foresee that modifica¬ 
tion of the social order, to which human affairs have, of them¬ 
selves, a tendency to approach; and, therefore, his practical saga¬ 
city and address are limited to the care of accomplishing the 
important ends which he has in view, as effectually and as rapidly 
as is consistent with the quiet of individuals, and with the rights 
arising from actual establishments. 

In order to lay a solid foundation for the science of politics, the 
first step ought to be, to ascertain that form of society which is 
perfectly agreeable to nature and to justice; and what are the 
principles of legislation necessary for maintaining it. Nor is the 
inquiry so difficult as might at first be apprehended; for it might 
be easily shown, that the greater part of the political disorders 
which exist among mankind, do not arise from a want of foresight 
in politicians, which has rendered their laws too general, but from 
their having trusted too little to the operation of those simple 
institutions which nature and justice recommend; and, of conse¬ 
quence, that, as society advances to its perfection, the number of 
laws may be expected to diminish, instead of increasing, and the 
science of legislation to be gradually simplified. 

The Economical system, which, about thirty years ago, employed 
the speculations of some ingenious men in France, seems to me to 
have been the first attempt to ascertain this ideal perfection of the 
social order; and the light which, since that period, has been 
thrown on the subject, in different parts of Europe, is a proof of 
what the human mind is able to accomplish in such inquiries, when 
it has once received a proper direction. To all the various tenets 
of these writers, I would, by no means, be understood to subscribe; 
nor do I consider their system as so perfect in every different part, 
as some of its more sanguine admirers have represented it to be. 
A few of the most important principles of political economy they 
have undoubtedly established with demonstrative evidence; but 
what the world is chiefly indebted to them for, is, the commence¬ 
ment which they have given to a new branch of science, and the 
plan of investigation which they have exhibited to their successors. 
A short account of what I conceive to be the scope of their specu¬ 
lations will justify these remarks, and will comprehend everything 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


133 

which I have to offer at present, in answer to the question by which 
they were suggested. Such an account I attempt with the greater 
satisfaction, that the leading views of the earliest and most en¬ 
lightened patrons of the Economical system have, in my opinion, 
been not more misrepresented by its opponents, than misappre¬ 
hended by some who have adopted its conclusions. (See note n.) 

In the first place, then, I think it of importance to remark, that 
the object of the Economical system ought by no means to be 
confounded (as I believe it commonly is in this country) with that 
of the Utopian plans of government, which have, at different times, 
been offered to the world; and which have so often excited the 
just ridicule of the more sober and reasonable inquirers. Of these 
plans, by far the greater number proceed on the supposition, that 
the social order is entirely the effect of human art; and that 
wherever this order is imperfect, the evil may be traced to some 
want of foresight on the part of the legislator; or to some inatten¬ 
tion of the magistrate to the complicated structure of that machine 
of which he regulates the movements. The projects of reform, 
therefore, which such plans involve, are, in general, well entitled 
to all the ridicule and contempt they have met with; inasmuch as 
they imply an arrogant and presumptuous belief in their authors, 
of the superiority of their own political sagacity, to the accumu¬ 
lated wisdom of former ages. The case is very different with the 
Economical system; of which the leading views (so far as I am able 
to judge) proceed on the two following suppositions: First, that 
the social order is, in the most essential respects, the result of the 
wisdom of nature, and not of human contrivance; and, therefore, 
that the proper business of the politician, is not to divide his atten¬ 
tion among all the different parts of a machine, which is by far too 
complicated for his comprehension ; but by protecting the rights of 
individuals, and by allowing to each as complete a liberty as is 
compatible with the perfect security of the rights of his fellow- 
citizens ; to remove every obstacle which the prejudices and vices 
of men have opposed to the establishment of that order which 
society has a tendency to assume. Secondly; that, in proportion 
to the progress and the diffusion of knowledge, those prejudices, 
on a skilful management of which all the old systems of policy 
proceeded, must gradually disappear; and, consequently, that 
(whatever may be his predilection for ancient usages) the inevitable 
course of events imposes on the politician the necessity of forming 
his measures on more solid and permanent principles, than those 
by which the world has hitherto been governed. Both of these 
suppositions are of modern origin. The former, so far as I know, 
■was first stated and illustrated by the French Economists. The 
latter has been obviously suggested by that rapid improvement 
which has actually taken place in every country of Europe where 
the press has enjoyed a moderate degree of liberty. 

[It may be farther remarked, with respect to the greater part of 


134 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


the plans proposed by Utopian projectors, that they proceed on the 
supposition of a miraculous reformation in the moral character of a 
people, to be effected by some new system of education. All such 
plans (as Mr. Hume has justly observed) may be safely abandoned 
as impracticable and visionary.] But this objection does not apply 
to the Economical system; the chief expedient of which, for pro¬ 
moting moral improvement, is not that education which depends on 
the attention and care of our instructors; but an education which 
necessarily results from the political order of society. “ How in¬ 
effectual,” (said the Roman poet,) “ are the wisest laws, if they be 
not supported by good morals !” How ineffectual (say the Econo¬ 
mists) are all our efforts to preserve the morals of a people, if the 
laws which regulate the political order doom the one half of man¬ 
kind to indigence, to fraud, to servility, to ignorance, to supersti¬ 
tion ; and the other half to be the slaves of all the follies and vices 
which result from the insolence of rank, and the selfishness of 
opulence ! Suppose, for a moment, that the inordinate accumula¬ 
tion of wealth in the hands of individuals, which we everywhere 
meet with in modern Europe, were gradually diminished by 
abolishing the law of entails, and by establishing a perfect freedom 
of commerce and of industry; it is almost self-evident, that this 
simple alteration in the order of society; an alteration which has 
been often demonstrated to be the most effectual and the most 
infallible measure for promoting the wealth and population of a 
country; would contribute more than all the labours of moralists, 
to secure the virtue and the happiness of all the classes of mankind. 
It is worthy too of remark, that such a plan of reformation does not 
require, for its accomplishment, any new and complicated institu¬ 
tions ; and, therefore, does not proceed upon any exaggerated con¬ 
ception of the efficacy of human policy. On the contrary, it 
requires only (like most of the other expedients proposed by this 
system) the gradual abolition of those arbitrary and unjust arrange¬ 
ments, by which the order of nature is disturbed. 

Another mistaken idea concerning the Economical system is, that 
it is founded entirely upon theory, and unsupported by facts. That 
this may be the case with respect to some of its doctrines, I shall 
not dispute: but, in general, it may be safely affirmed, that they 
rest on a'broader basis of facts, than any other political speculations 
which have been yet offered to the world; for they are founded, not 
on a few examples collected from the small number of governments 
of which we possess an accurate knowledge; but on those laws of 
human nature, and those maxims of common sense, which are daily 
verified in the intercourse of private life. 

Of those who have speculated on the subject of legislation, by far 
the greater part seem to have considered it as a science sui generis ; 
the first principles of which can be obtained in no other way, than 
by an examination of the conduct of mankind in their political 
capacity. The Economists, on the contrary, have searched for the 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


135 


causes of national prosperity, and national improvement, in those 
arrangements, which our daily observations show to be favourable 
to the prosperity and to the improvement of individuals. The 
former resemble those philosophers of antiquity, who, affirming that 
the phenomena of the heavens are regulated by laws peculiar to 
themselves, discouraged every attempt to investigate their physical 
causes, which was founded upon facts collected from common expe¬ 
rience. The latter have aimed at accomplishing a reformation in 
politics, similar to what Kepler and Newton accomplished in astro¬ 
nomy; and, by subjecting to that common sense, which guides man¬ 
kind in their private concerns, those questions, of which none were 
supposed to be competent judges but men initiated in the myste¬ 
ries of government, have given a beginning to a science which has 
already extended very widely our political prospects; and which, 
in its progress, may probably afford an illustration, not less striking 
than that which physical astronomy exhibits, of the simplicity of 
those laws by which the universe is governed. 

When a political writer, in order to expose the folly of those 
commercial regulations which aim at the encouragement of domestic 
industry by restraints on importation, appeals to the maxims upon 
which men act in private life; when he remarks, that the tailor 
does not attempt to make his own shoes, but buys them of the 
shoemaker; that the shoemaker does not attempt to make his own 
clothes, but employs a tailor; and when he concludes, that what is 
prudence in the conduct of every private family, can scarcely be 
folly in that of a great kingdom; (See Mr. Smith’s profound and 
original “ Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth'of 
Nations,”) he may undoubtedly be said, in one sense, to indulge in 
theory; as he calls in question the utility of institutions which 
appear, from the fact, to be not incompatible with a certain degree 
of political prosperity. But, in another sense, and in a much more 
philosophical one, he may be said to oppose to the false theories of 
statesmen, the common sense of mankind; and those maxims of 
expediency, of which every man may verify the truth by his own 
daily observation. 

There is yet another mistake, (of still greater consequence, per¬ 
haps, than any of those I have mentioned,) •which has misled most 
of the opponents, and even some of the friends, of the economical 
system; an idea that it was meant to exhibit a political order, 
which is really attainable in the present state of Europe. So diffe¬ 
rent from this were the views of its most enlightened advocates, 
that they have uniformly rested their only hopes of its gradual 
establishment in the world, on that influence in the conduct of 
human affairs which philosophy may be expected gradually to 
acquire, in consequence of the progress of reason and civilization. 
To suppose that a period is ever to arrive, when it shall be realized 
in its full extent, would be the height of enthusiasm and absurdity; 
but it is surely neither enthusiasm nor absurdity to affirm, that 


136 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


governments are more or less perfect, in proportion to the greater 
or smaller number of individuals to whom they afford the means 
of cultivating their intellectual and moral powers, and whom they 
admit to live together on a liberal footing of equality;—or even to 
expect, that, in proportion to the progress of reason, governments 
will actually approach nearer and nearer to this description. 

To delineate that state of political society to which governments 
may be expected to approach nearer and nearer as the triumphs 
of philosophy extend, was, I apprehend, the leading object of the 
earliest and most enlightened patrons of the Economical system. It 
is a state of society, which they by no means intended to recom¬ 
mend to particular communities, as the most eligible they could 
adopt at present ; but as an ideal order of things, to which they 
have a tendency of themselves to approach, and to which it ought 
to be the aim of the legislator to facilitate their progress. In the 
language of mathematicians, it forms a limit to the progressive 
improvement of the political order; and, in the mean time, it 
exhibits a standard of comparison, by which the excellence of 
particular institutions may be estimated. 

According to the view which has now been given of the Econo¬ 
mical system, its principles appear highly favourable to the tran¬ 
quillity of society; inasmuch as, by inspiring us with a confidence 
in the triumph which truth and liberty must infallibly gain in the 
end over error and injustice, it has a tendency to discourage every 
plan of innovation which is to be supported by violence and blood¬ 
shed. And, accordingly, such has always been the language of 
those who were best acquainted with the views of its authors. “ If 
we attack oppressors, before we have taught the oppressed,” (says 
one of the ablest of its present* supporters, M. Condorcet,) “we 
shall risk the loss of liberty, and rouse them to oppose the progress 
of reason. History affords proofs of this truth. How often, in 
spite of the efforts of the friends of freedom, has the event of a 
single battle reduced nations to the slavery of ages ! 

“And what is the kind of liberty enjoyed by those nations, 
which have recovered it by force of arms, and not by the influence 
of philosophy ? Have not most of them confounded the forms of 
republicanism with the enjoyment of right, and the despotism of 
numbers with liberty ? How many laws contrary to the rights of 
nature have dishonoured the code of every people which has 
recovered its freedom, during those ages in which reason was still 
in its infancy ! 

“ Why not profit by this fatal experience, and wisely wait the 
progress of knowledge, in order to obtain freedom more effectual, 
more substantial, and more peaceful? Why pursue it by blood 
and inevitable confusion, and trust that to chance, which time must 
certainly, and without bloodshed, bestow ? A fortunate struggle 

* This passage was written in 1792, only two years before the persecution of his 
enemies had driven Condorcet to the miserable alternative of self-destruction. 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


137 

may, indeed, relieve us of many grievances under which we labour 
at present; but if we wish to secure the perfection, and the perman¬ 
ence of freedom, we must patiently wait the period when men, 
emancipated from their prejudices, and guided by philosophy, shall 
be rendered worthy of liberty, by comprehending its claims.” * 

Nor is it the employment of violent and sanguinary means alone, 
in order to accomplish political innovations, that this enlightened 
and humane philosophy has a tendency to discourage. By extend¬ 
ing our views to the whole plan of civil society, and showing us the 
mutual relations and dependencies of its most distant parts, it 
cannot fail to check that indiscriminate zeal against established 
institutions, which arises from partial views of the social system; 
as well as to produce a certain degree of scepticism with respect 
to every change, the success of which is not insured by the pre¬ 
vailing ideas and manners of the age. Sanguine and inconsiderate 
projects of reformation are frequently the offspring of clear and 
argumentative and systematical understandings; but rarely of 
comprehensive minds. For checking them, indeed, nothing is 
so effectual as a general survey of the complicated structure of 
society. Even although such a survey should be superficial, pro¬ 
vided it be conducted on an extensive scale, it is more useful, at 
least, for this purpose, than the most minute and successful inqui¬ 
ries, which are circumscribed within a narrow circle. If it should 
teach us nothing else, it will at least satisfy us of the extreme diffi¬ 
culty of predicting, with confidence, the remote effects of new 
arrangements; and that the perfection of political wisdom consists 
not in encumbering the machine of government with new contriv¬ 
ances to obviate every partial inconvenience, but in removing 
gradually, and imperceptibly, the obstacles which disturb the order 
of nature, and, as Mr. Addison somewhere expresses it, “ in grafting 
upon her institutions.” 

When the Economical system, indeed, is first presented to the 
mind, and when we compare the perfection which it exhibits, with 
the actual state of human affairs, it is by no means unnatural, that 
it should suggest plans of reformation too violent and sudden to be 
practicable. A more complete acquaintance, however, with the 
subject, will effectually cure these first impressions, by pointing 
out to us the mischiefs to be apprehended from an injudicious com¬ 
bination of theoretical perfection with our established laws, preju¬ 
dices, and manners. As the various unnatural modes and habits of 
living, to which the bodily constitution is gradually reconciled by 
a course of luxurious indulgences, have such a tendency to correct 
each other’s effects, as to render a partial return to a more simple 
regimen, a dangerous, and, sometimes, a fatal experiment; so it is 

* To some of my readers it may appear trifling to remark, that, in availing myself 
of an occasional coincidence of sentiment with a contemporary author, I would not be 
understood to become responsible for the consistency of his personal conduct with his 
philosophical principles, nor to subscribe to any one of his opinions, but those to which 
I have expressed my assent by incorporating them with my own composition, (rsote 
to Second Edition.) 


138 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


possible, that many of our imperfect political institutions may be so 
accommodated to each other, that a partial execution of the most 
plausible and equitable plans of reformation, might tend, in the 
first instance, to frustrate those important purposes which we are 
anxious to promote. Is it not po*ssible, for example, that the influ¬ 
ence which is founded on a respect for hereditary rank, may have 
its use in counteracting that aristocracy which arises from inequa¬ 
lity of wealth; and which so many laws and prejudices conspire to 
support ? That the former species of influence is rapidly declining 
of itself, in consequence of the progress which commerce and phi- 
losophy have already made, is sufficiently obvious; and, I think, it 
may reasonably be doubted, whether a well-wisher to mankind 
would be disposed to accelerate its destruction, till the true 
principles of political economy are completely understood and 
acknowledged by the world. 

Various other examples might be produced to illustrate the dan¬ 
gers to be apprehended from the partial influence of general prin¬ 
ciples in politics, or, in other words, from an exclusive attention to 
particular circumstances in the political order, without compre¬ 
hensive views of the subject. It is only upon a limited mind, 
therefore, that such studies will produce a passion for violent inno¬ 
vations. In more comprehensive and enlightened understandings 
their natural effect is caution and diffidence with respect to the 
issue of every experiment of which we do not perceive distinctly 
all the remote consequences. Nor is this caution at all inconsistent 
with a firm confidence in the certainty of that triumph which truth 
and liberty must infallibly gain in the end over error and injustice. 
On the contrary, it is a natural and obvious consequence of such a 
conviction, inasmuch as the same arguments on which this convic¬ 
tion is founded, prove to us, that the progress of mankind towards 
the perfection of the social order, must, necessarily, in every case, 
be gradual, and that it must be diversified in the course it takes 
according to the situations and character of nations. To direct, 
and, as far as possible, to accelerate this progress, ought to be the 
great aim of the enlightened statesman, and, indeed, of every man 
who wishes well to his species; but it is necessary for him always 
to remember that considerable alterations in the established order 
are very seldom to be effected immediately and directly by political 
regulations: and that they are, in all cases, most successful and 
most permanent when they are accomplished gradually by natural 
causes, freed from those restraints which had formerly checked 
their operation. In the governments, indeed, of modern Europe, 
it is much more necessary to abolish old institutions than to intro¬ 
duce new ones, and if this reformation be kept steadily in view, and 
not pushed farther at any time than circumstances render expedient, 
or the ideas of the times recommend, the essential principles of a 
more perfect order of things will gradually establish themselves 
without any convulsion. 

According to this view of the subject, the speculation concerning 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


139 

the perfect order of society is to be regarded merely as a descrip¬ 
tion of the ultimate objects at which the statesman ought to aim. 
The tranquillity of his administration, and the immediate success of 
his measures, depend on his good sense and his practical skill. And 
his theoretical principles only enable him to direct his measures 
steadily and wisely, to promote the improvement and happiness of 
mankind, and prevent him from being ever led astray from these 
important objects, by more limited views of temporary expedience.* 

Before closing this disquisition, it may be proper for me to attempt 
to obviate a little more fully than I have done, an objection which 
has been frequently drawn from the past experience of mankind 
against that supposition of their progressive improvement on which 
all the foregoing reasonings proceed. How mournful are the 
vicissitudes which history exhibits to us in the course of human 
affairs, and how little foundation do they afford to our sanguine 
prospects concerning futurity ! If, in those parts of the earth which 
were formerly inhabited by barbarians, we now see the most splen¬ 
did exertions of genius, and the happiest forms of civil policy, we 
behold others which in ancient times were the seats of science, of 
civilization, and of liberty, at present immersed in superstition, and 
laid waste by despotism. After a short period of civil, of military, 
and of literary glory, the prospect has changed at once; the career 
of degeneracy has begun, and has proceeded till it could advance 

* The foregoing observations on the general aim of the Economical system refer 
solely (as must appear evident to those who have perused them with attention) to the 
doctrines it contains on the article of political economy. The theory of government 
which it inculcates is of the most dangerous tendency, recommending, in strong and 
unqualified terms, an unmixed despotism, and reprobating all constitutional checks on 
the sovereign authority. Many English writers indeed, with an almost incredible 
ignorance of the works which they have presumed to censure, have spoken of them as 
if they encouraged political principles of a very different complexion ; but the truth is, 
that the disciples of Quesnay (without a single exception) carried their zeal for the 
power of the monarch, and what they called the unity of legislation, to so extravagant 
a length, as to treat with contempt those mixed establishments which allow any share 
whatever of legislative influence to the representatives of the people. On the one 
hand, the evidence of this system appeared to its partisans so complete and irresistible, 
that they flattered themselves monarchs would soon see, with an intuitive conviction, 
the identity of their own interests with those of the nations they are called to govern ; 
and, on the other hand, they contended that it is only under the strong and steady 
government of a race of hereditary princes, undistracted by the prejudices and local 
interests which warp the deliberations of popular assemblies, that a gradual and syste¬ 
matical approach can be made to the perfection of law and policy. The very first of 
Quesnay’s maxims states, as a fundamental principle, that the sovereign authority, 
unrestrained by any constitutional checks or balances, should be lodged in the hands of 
a single person, and the same doctrine is maintained zealously by all his followers; by 
none of them more explicitly than by Mercier de la Riviere, whose treatise on u The 
Natural and Essential Order of Political Societies,” might have been expected to 
attract some notice in this country, from the praise which Mr. Smith has bestowed on 
the perspicuity of his style, and the distinctness of his arrangement. 

If some individuals who formerly professed an enthusiastic attachment to the doc¬ 
trines of this sect, have, at a later period of their lives, distinguished themselves by an 
enthusiasm no less ardent in opposition to the principles advanced in their writings, 
the fact only affords an additional illustration of a truth verified by daily experience, 
that the most solid foundation for political consistency is a spirit of moderation, and 
that the most natural and easy of all transitions is from the violence and intolerance'of 
one extreme to those of another_(Note to Second Edition.) 


140 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


no farther, or some unforeseen calamity has occurred which has 
obliterated, for a time, all memory of former improvements, and 
has condemned mankind to retrace, step by step, the same path by 
which their forefathers had risen to greatness. In a word, on such 
a retrospective view of human affairs, man appears to be the mere 
sport of fortune and of accident, or rather, he appears to be doomed, 
by the condition of his nature, to run alternately the career of 
improvement and of degeneracy, and to realise the beautiful but 
melancholy fable of Sisyphus, by an eternal renovation of hope and 
of disappointment. 

[In opposition to these discouraging views of the state and pro¬ 
spects of man, it may be remarked in general, that in the course of 
these latter ages, a variety of events have happened in the history 
of the world, which render the condition of the human race essentially 
different from what it ever was among the nations of antiquity ; and 
which, of consequence, render all our reasonings concerning their 
future fortunes, in so far as they are founded merely on their past 
experience, unphilosophical and inconclusive.] The alterations 
which have' taken place in the art of war, in consequence of the 
invention of fire-arms, and of the modern science of fortification, 
have given to civilized nations a security against the irruptions of 
barbarians, which they never before possessed. The more extended, 
and the more constant intercourse, which the improvements in 
commerce and in the art of navigation have opened, among the 
distant quarters of the globe, cannot fail to operate in undermining 
local and national prejudices, and in imparting to the whole species 
the intellectual acquisitions of each particular community. The 
accumulated experience of ages has already taught the rulers of 
mankind, that the most fruitful and the most permanent sources of 
revenue are to be derived, not from conquered and tributary pro¬ 
vinces, but from the internal prosperity and wealth of their own 
subjects : and the same experience now begins to teach nations, 
that the increase of their own wealth, so far from depending on the 
poverty and depression of their neighbours, is intimately connected 
with their industry and opulence ; and consequently, that those 
commercial jealousies, which have hitherto been so fertile a source 
of animosity among different states, are founded entirely on igno¬ 
rance and prejudice. Among all the circumstances, however, 
which distinguish the present state of mankind from that of ancient 
nations, the invention of printing is by far the most important; and, 
indeed, this single event, independently of every other, is sufficient 
to change the whole course of human affairs. 

The influence which printing is likely to have on the future 
history of the world, has not, I think, been hitherto examined, by 
philosophers, with the attention which the importance of the subject 
deserves. One reason for this may, probably, have been, that, as 
the invention has never been made but once, it has been considered 
rather as the effect of a fortunate accident, than as the result of 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


141 

those general causes on which the progress of society seems to 
depend. But it may be reasonably questioned how far this idea be 
just. For, although it should be allowed, that the invention of 
printing was accidental, with respect to the individual who made it, 
it may with truth be considered as the natural result of a state of 
the world, when a number of great and contiguous nations are all 
engaged in the study of literature, in the pursuit of science, and in 
the practice of the arts: insomuch, that I do not think it extrava¬ 
gant to affirm, that if this invention had not been made by the 
particular person to whom it is ascribed, the same art, or some 
analogous art, answering a similar purpose, would have infallibly 
been invented by some other person, and at no very distant period. 
The art of printing, therefore, is entitled to be considered as a step 
in the natural history of man, no less than the art of writing; and 
they who are sceptical about the future progress of the race, merely 
in consequence of its past history, reason as unphilosophically as 
the member of a savage tribe, who, deriving his own acquaintance 
with former times from oral tradition only, should affect to call in 
question the efficacy of written records, in accelerating the progress 
of knowledge and of civilization. 

What will be the particular effects of this invention, (which has 
been, hitherto, much checked in its operation, by the restraints on 
the liberty of the press in the greater part of Europe,) it is beyond 
the reach of human sagacity to conjecture; but, in general, we may 
venture to predict with confidence that, in every country it will 
gradually operate to widen the circle of science and civilization; to 
distribute more equally, among all the members of the community, 
the advantages of the political union; and to enlarge the basis of 
equitable governments, by increasing the number of those who 
understand their value, and are interested to defend them. The 
science of legislation, too, with all the other branches of knowledge 
which are connected with human improvement, may be expected 
to advance with rapidity; and, in proportion as the opinions and 
institutions of men approach to truth and to justice, they will be 
secured against those revolutions to which human affairs have always 
been hitherto subject. Opinionum enim commenta delet dies , naturae 
judicia confirmat* 

The revolutions incident to the democratical states of antiquity 
furnish no solid objection to the foregoing observations; for none 
of these states enjoyed the advantages which modern times derive 
from the diffusion, and from the rapid circulation, of knowledge. 
In these states, most of the revolutions which happened arose 
from the struggles of demagogues, who employed the passions 
of the multitude, in subserviency to their own interest and am¬ 
bition; and to all of them the ingenious and striking remark of 
Hobbes will be found applicable; that “ Democracy is nothing but 

* “ For time destroys the speculations of opinion, and confirms the decisions of 
nature.” 


142 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


an aristocracy of orators, interrupted sometimes by the temporary 
monarchy of a single orator.” While this continued to be the case, 
democratical constitutions were, undoubtedly, the most unfavourable 
of any to the tranquillity of mankind; and the only way to preserve 
the order of society was, by skilfully balancing against each other, 
the prejudices and the separate interests of different orders of 
citizens. That such balances, however, will every day become less 
necessary for checking the turbulence of the democratical spirit in 
free governments, appears probable from this; that among the 
various advantages to be expected from the liberty of the press, 
one of the greatest is, the effect which it must necessarily have in 
diminishing the influence of popular eloquence; both by curing 
men of those prejudices upon which it operates, and by subjecting 
it to the irresistible control of enlightened opinions. In the Repub¬ 
lican states of antiquity, the eloquence of demagogues was indeed 
a dangerous engine of faction, while it aspired to govern nations 
by its unlimited sway in directing popular councils. But, now, 
when the effusions of the orator are, by means of the press, sub¬ 
jected to the immediate tribunal of an inquisitive age, the eloquence 
of legislative assemblies is forced to borrow its tone from the spirit 
of the times; and if it retain its ascendant in human affairs, it can 
only be by lending its aid to the prevailing cause, and to the per¬ 
manent interests of truth and of freedom. 

Of the progress which may yet be made in the different branches 
of moral and political philosophy, we may form some idea, from 
what has already happened in physics, since the time that Lord 
Bacon united, in one useful direction, the labours of those who 
cultivate that science. At the period when he wrote, physics was 
certainly in a more hopeless state, than that of moral and political 
philosophy in the present age. A perpetual succession of chimeri¬ 
cal theories had, till then, amused the world; and the prevailing 
opinion was, that the case would continue to be the same for ever. 
Why then should we despair of the competency of the human facul¬ 
ties to establish solid and permanent systems, upon other subjects, 
which are of still more serious importance? Physics, it is true, is 
free from many difficulties which obstruct our progress in moral 
and political inquiries; but, perhaps, this advantage may be more 
than counterbalanced, by the tendency they have to engage a more 
universal, and a more earnest attention, in consequence of their 
coming home more immediately to our “business and our bosoms.” 
When these sciences too begin to be prosecuted on a regular and 
systematical plan, their improvement will go on with an accelerated 
velocity; not only as the number of speculative minds will be every 
day increased by the diffusion of knowledge, but as an acquaintance 
with the just rules of inquiry will more and more place important 
discoveries within the reach of ordinary understandings. “ Such 
rules,” says Lord Bacon, “ do, in some sort, equal men’s wits, and 
leave no great advantage or pre-eminence to the perfect and excel- 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


143 

lent motions of the spirit. &iT To draw a straight line, or to describe 
a circle, by aim of hand only, there must be a great difference 
between an unsteady and an unpractised hand, and a steady and 
practised; but, to do it by rule or compass, it is much alike.” 

[Nor must we omit to mention the value which the art of printing 
communicates to the most limited exertions of literary industry, by 
treasuring them up as materials for the future examination of more 
enlightened inquirers. In this respect the press bestows upon the 
sciences an advantage somewhat analogous to that which the 
mechanical arts derive from the division of labour.] As in these 
arts, the exertions of an uninformed multitude, are united by the 
comprehensive skill of the artist, in the accomplishment of effects 
astonishing by their magnitude, and by the complicated ingenuity 
they display; so, in the sciences, the observations and conjectures 
of obscure individuals on those subjects which are level to their 
capacities, and which fall under their own immediate notice, 
accumulate for a course of years; till at last, some philosopher 
arises, who combines these scattered materials, and exhibits, in his 
system, not merely the force of a single mind, but the intellectual 
power of the age in which he lives. 

It is upon these last considerations, much more than on the 
efforts of original genius, that I would rest my hopes of the progress 
of the race. What genius alone could accomplish in science, the 
world has already seen: and I am ready to subscribe to the opinion 
of those who think, that the splendour of its past exertions is not 
likely to be obscured by the fame of future philosophers. But 
the experiment yet remains to be tried, what lights may be thrown 
on the most important of all subjects, by the free discussions of 
inquisitive nations, unfettered by prejudice, and stimulated in their 
inquiries by every motive that can awaken whatever is either 
generous or selfish in human nature.. How trifling are the effects 
which the bodily strength of an individual is able to produce, (how¬ 
ever great may be his natural endowments,) when compared with 
those which have been accomplished by the conspiring force of an 
ordinary multitude ! It was not the single arm of a Theseus, or 

a Hercules, but the hands of such men as ourselves, that, in ancient 
Egypt, raised those monuments of architecture, which remain from 
age to age, to attest the wonders of combined and of persevering 
industry; and, while they humble the importance of the individual, 
to exalt the dignity, and to animate the labours of the species. 

These views with respect to the probable improvement of the 
world, are so conducive to the comfort of those who entertain them, 
that even, although they were founded in delusion, a wise man 
would be disposed to cherish them. What should have induced 
some respectable writers to controvert them, with so great an 
asperity of expression, it is not easy to conjecture; for whatever 
may be thought of their truth, their practical tendency is surely 
favourable to human happiness; nor can that temper of mind, which 


PA TIT I. 


CHAP. IV. 


144 


disposes a man to give them a welcome reception, be candidly sus¬ 
pected of designs hostile to the interests of humanity. One thing 
is certain, that the greatest of all obstacles to the improvement of 
the world, is that prevailing belief of its improbability, which damps 
the exertions of so many individuals; and that in proportion as the 
contrary opinion becomes general, it realises the event which it 
leads us to anticipate. Surely, if anything can have a tendency to 
call forth in the public service the exertions of individuals, it must 
be an idea of the magnitude of that work in which they are con¬ 
spiring, and a belief of the permanence of those benefits, which they 
confer on mankind by every attempt to inform and to enlighten 
them. As in ancient Rome, therefore, it was regarded as the mark 
of a good citizen, never to despair of the fortunes of the republic; 
—so the good citizen of the world, whatever may be the political 
aspect of his own times, will never despair of the fortunes of the 
human race; but will act upon the conviction, that prejudice, 
slavery, and corruption, must gradually give way to truth, liberty, 
and virtue; and that, in the moral world, as well as in the material, 
the farther our observations extend, and the longer they are con¬ 
tinued, the more we shall perceive of order and of benevolent design 
in the universe. 

Nor is this change in the condition of man, in consequence of the 
progress of reason, by any means contrary to the general analogy 
of his natural history. In the infancy of the individual, his exist¬ 
ence is preserved by instincts, which disappear afterwards, when 
they are no longer necessary. In the savage state of our species, 
there are instincts which seem to form a part of the human consti¬ 
tution : and of which no traces remain in those periods of society 
in which their use is superseded by a more enlarged experience. 
Why then should we deny the probability of something similar to 
this, in the history of mankind considered in their political capacity ? 
I have already had occasion to observe, that the governments which 
the world has hitherto seen, have seldom or never taken their rise 
from deep-laid schemes of human policy. In every state of society 
which has yet existed, the multitude has, in general, acted from the 
immediate impulse of passion, or from the pressure of their wants 
and necessities ; and therefore, what we commonly call the political 
order, is, at least in a great measure, the result of the passions and 
wants of man, combined with the circumstances of his situation ; 
or, in other words, it is chiefly the result of the wisdom of nature. 
So beautifully, indeed, do these passions and circumstances act in 
subserviency to her designs, and so invariably have they been found, 
in the history of past ages, to conduct him in time to certain bene¬ 
ficial arrangements, that we can hardly bring ourselves to believe, 
that the end was not foreseen by those who were engaged in the 
pursuit. Even in those rude periods of society, when, like the 
lower animals, he follows blindly his instinctive principles of action, 
he is led by an invisible hand, and contributes his share to the 


OF ABSTRACTION. 


145 


execution of a plan, of the nature and advantages of which he has 
no conception. i^IT The operations of the bee, when it begins, for 
the first time, to form its cell, conveys to us a striking image of the 
efforts of unenlightened man, in conducting the operations of an 
infant government. 

A great variety of prejudices might be mentioned, which are 
found to prevail universally among our species in certain periods of 
society, and which seem to be essentially necessary for maintaining 
its order, in ages when men are unable to comprehend the purposes 
for which governments are instituted. As society advances, these 
prejudices gradually lose their influence on the higher classes, and 
would probably soon disappear altogether, if it were not found 
expedient to prolong their existence, as a source of authority over 
the multitude. In an age, however, of universal and of unrestrained 
discussion, it is impossible that they can long maintain their empire ; 
nor ought we to regret their decline, if the important ends to which 
they have been subservient in the past experience of mankind, are 
found to be accomplished by the growing light of philosophy. On 
this supposition, a history of human prejudices, as far as they have 
supplied the place of more enlarged political views, may, at some 
future period, furnish to the philosopher a subject of speculation, 
no less pleasing and instructive, than that beneficent wisdom of 
nature, which guides the operations of the lower animals; and 
which, even in our own species, takes upon itself the care of the 
individual in the infancy of human reason. 

I have only to observe farther, that, in proportion as these 
prospects, with respect to the progress of reason, the diffusion 
of knowledge, and the consequent improvement of mankind, 
shall be realised, the political history of the world will be regu¬ 
lated by steady and uniform causes, and the philosopher will be 
enabled to form probable conjectures with respect to the future 
course of human affairs. 

It is justly remarked by Mr. Hume, that “ what depends on 
a few persons is, in a great measure, to be ascribed to chance, or 
secret and unknown causes: what arises from a great number, may 
often be accounted for by determinate and known causes. To 
judge by this rule,” he continues, “ the domestic and the gradual 
revolutions of a state must be a more proper object of reasoning 
and observation, than the foreign and the violent, which are com¬ 
monly produced by single persons, and are more influenced by 
whim, folly, or caprice, than by general passions and interests. 
The depression of the Lords, and rise of the Commons, in England, 
after the statutes of alienation and the increase of trade and 
industry, are more easily accounted for by general principles, than 
the depression of the Spanish, and rise of the French monarchy, 
after the death of Charles the Fifth. Had Harry the Fourth, 
Cardinal Richelieu, and Louis the Fourteenth, been Spaniards; 
and Philip the Second, Third, and Fourth, and Charles the 


146 


PART I. 


CHAP. IV. 


Second, been Frenchmen; the history of these nations had been 
entirely reversed.” 

From these principles, it would seem to be a necessary conse¬ 
quence, that, in proportion as the circumstances shall operate 
which I have been endeavouring to illustrate, the whole system of 
human affairs, including both the domestic order of society in 
particular states, and the relations which exist among different 
communities, in consequence of war and negotiation, will be sub¬ 
jected to the influence of causes which are “ known and deter¬ 
minate.” Those domestic affairs, which, according to Mr. Hume, 
are already proper subjects of reasoning and observation, in con¬ 
sequence of their dependence on general interests and passions, 
will become so, more and more, daily, as prejudices shall decline, 
and knowledge shall be diffused among the lower orders; while 
the relations among different states, which have depended hitherto, 
in a great measure, on the “ whim, folly, and caprice ” of single 
persons, will be gradually more and more regulated by the general 
interests of the individuals who compose them, and by the popular 
opinions of more enlightened times. Already, during the very 
short interval which has elapsed since the publication of Mr. Hume’s 
writings, an astonishing change has taken place in Europe ; the 
mysteries of courts have "been laid open; the influence of secret 
negotiation on the relative situation of states has declined; and the 
studies of those men whose public spirit or ambition devotes them 
to the service of their country, have been diverted from the intrigues 
of cabinets, and the details of the diplomatic code, to the liberal 
and manly pursuits of political philosophy. 


CHAPTER Y. 

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

The subject on which I am now to enter, naturally divides itself 
into two Parts. The First, (which is treated of in this Chapter,) 
relates to the influence of Association, in regulating the succession 
of our thoughts; the Second, (which forms the subject of Chapter 
VI.,) to its influence on the intellectual powers, and on the moral 
character, by the more intimate and indissoluble combinations 
which it leads us to form in infancy and in early youth. The two 
inquiries, indeed, run into each other; but it will contribute much 
to the order of our speculations, to keep the foregoing arrangement 
in view. 

FIRST;—OF THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION IN REGULATING THE 
SUCCESSION OF OUR THOUGHTS. 

I. General Observations on this Part of our Constitution , and on the 
Language of Philosophers with respect to it. —That one thought is 



OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


147 

often suggested to the mind by another; and that the sight of an 
external object often recalls former occurrences, and revives former 
feelings, are facts which are perfectly familiar, even to those who 
are the least disposed to speculate concerning the principles of 
their nature. In passing along a road which we have formerly 

travelled in the company of a friend, the particulars of the con¬ 
versation in which we were then engaged, are frequently suggested 
to us by the objects we meet with. In such a scene, we recollect 
that a particular subject was started ; and, in passing the different 
houses, and plantations, and rivers, the arguments we were dis¬ 
cussing when we last saw them, recur spontaneously to the memory. 
The connexion which is formed in the mind between the words of 
a language and the ideas they denote; the connexion which is 
formed between the different words of a discourse we have com¬ 
mitted to memory; the connexion between the different notes of 
a piece of music in the mind of the musician, are all obvious 
instances of the same general law of our nature. 

The influence of perceptible objects in reviving former thoughts 
and former feelings, is more particularly remarkable. After time 
has, in some degree, reconciled us to the death of a friend, how 
wonderfully are we affected the first time we enter the house where 
he lived ! Everything we see; the apartment where he studied; 
the chair upon which he sat, recall to us the happiness we have 
enjoyed together; and we should feel it a sort of violation of that 
respect we owe to his memory, to engage in any light or indifferent 
discourse when such objects are before us. In the case, too, of 
those remarkable scenes which interest the curiosity, from the 
memorable persons or transactions which we have been accustomed 
to connect with them in the course of our studies, the fancy is 
more awakened by the actual perception of the scene itself, than 
by the mere conception or imagination of it. Hence the pleasure 
we enjoy in visiting classical ground; in beholding the retreats which 
inspired the genius of our favourite authors, or the fields which 
have been dignified by exertions of heroic virtue. How feeble are 
the emotions produced by the liveliest conception of modern Italy, 
to what the poet felt, when, amidst the ruins of Rome, 

« He drew th' inspiring breath of ancient ai ts, 

And trod the sacred walks 
Where, at each step, imagination burns ! ” * 

The well-known effect of a particular tune on Swiss regiments 
when at a distance from home, furnishes a very striking illustration 
of the peculiar power of a perception, or of an impression on the 
senses, to awaken associated thoughts and feelings; and numberless 
facts of a similar nature must have occurred to every person of 
moderate sensibility, in the course of his own experience. 

* “ Quacunque ingredimur,” says Cicero, speaking of Athens, “ in aliquant historian! 
vestigium ponimus.” [Wherever we go, we place our footsteps on something asso¬ 
ciated with history.] 

l 2 


148 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


“ Whilst we were at dinner,” says Captain King, “ in this miser¬ 
able hut, on the banks of the river Awatska, the guests of a people 
with whose existence we had before been scarce acquainted, and at 
the extremity of the habitable globe ; a solitary, half-worn pewter 
spoon, whose shape was familiar to us, attracted our attention; and, 
on examination, we found it stamped on the back with the word 
London. I cannot pass over this circumstance in silence, out of 
gratitude for the many pleasant thoughts, the anxious hopes, and 
tender remembrances, it excited in us. Those who have expe¬ 
rienced the effects that long absence, and extreme distance from 
their native country, produce on the mind, will readily conceive 
the pleasure such a trifling incident can give.” 

The difference between the effect of a perception and an idea, in 
awakening associated thoughts and feelings, is finely described in 
the introduction to the fifth book De Finibus. 

“ We agreed,” says Cicero, “ that we should take our afternoon’s 
walk in the Academy, as at that time of the day it was a place 
where there was no resort of company. Accordingly, at the hour 
appointed we went to Piso’s. We passed the time in conversing 
on different matters during our short walk from the double gate, 
till we came to the Academy, that justly celebrated spot; which, as 
we wished, we found a perfect solitude. I know not,” said Piso, 
“ whether it be a natural feeling, or an illusion of the imagination. 
founded on habit, that we are more powerfully affected by the sight 
of those places which have been much frequented by illustrious 
men, than when we either listen to the recital, or read the detail, 
of their great actions. At this moment, I feel strongly that emo¬ 
tion which I speak of. I see before me, the perfect form of Plato, 
who was wont to dispute in this very place : these gardens not only 
recall him to my memory, but present his very person to my senses. 
I fancy to myself, that here stood Speusippus; there Xenocrates, 
and here, on this bench, sat his disciple Polemo. To me, our 
ancient Senate-house seems peopled with the like visionary forms; 
for, often, when I enter it, the shades of Scipio, of Cato, and of 
Leelius, and, in particular, of my venerable grandfather, rise to my 
imagination. In short, such is the effect of local situation in 
recalling associated ideas to the mind, that it is not without reason 
some philosophers have founded on this principle a species of 
artificial memory.” 

This influence of perceptible objects, in awakening associated 
thoughts and associated feelings, seems to arise, in a great measure, 
from their permanent operation as exciting or suggesting causes. 
When a train of thought takes its rise from an idea or conception, 
the first idea soon disappears, and a series of others succeeds, which 
are gradually less and less related to that with which the train com¬ 
menced ; but in the case of perception, the exciting cause remains 
steadily before us; and all the thoughts and feelings which have 
any relation to it, crowd into the mind in rapid succession; 


OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 149 

strengthening each other’s effects, and all conspiring in the same 
general impression. 

I already observed, that the connexions which exist among our 
thoughts, have been long familiarly known to the vulgar as well as 
to philosophers. It is, indeed, only of late that we have been pos¬ 
sessed of an appropriated phrase to express them; but that the 
general fact is not a recent discovery, may be inferred from many 
of the common maxims of prudence and of propriety, which have 
plainly been suggested by an attention to this part of our con¬ 
stitution. When we lay it down, for example, as a general rule to 
avoid in conversation all expressions, and all topics of discourse, 
which have any relation, however remote, to ideas of an unpleasant 
nature, we plainly proceed on the supposition that there are certain 
connexions among our thoughts, which have an influence over the 
order of their succession. It is unnecessary to remark, how much 
of the comfort and good-humour of social life depends on an atten¬ 
tion to this consideration. Such attentions are more particularly 
essential in our intercourse with men of the world; for the com¬ 
merce of society has a wonderful effect in increasing the quickness 
and the facility with which we associate all ideas which have any 
reference to life and manners; * and, of consequence, it must render 
the sensibility alive to many circumstances which, from the remote¬ 
ness of their relation to the situation and history of the parties, 
would otherwise have passed unnoticed. 

When an idea, however, is thus suggested by association, it 
produces a slighter impression, or, at least, it produces its impres¬ 
sion more gradually, than if it were presented more directly and 
immediately to the mind. And hence, when we are under a neces¬ 
sity of communicating any. disagreeable information to another, 
delicacy leads us, instead of mentioning the thing itself, to mention 
something else from which our meaning may be understood. In 
this manner, we prepare our hearers for the unwelcome intelligence. 

The distinction between gross and delicate flattery, is founded 
upon the same principle. As nothing is more offensive than flattery 
which is direct and pointed, praise is considered as happy and 
elegant, in proportion to the slightness of the associations by which 
it is conveyed. 

[To this tendency which one thought has to introduce another , philo¬ 
sophers have given the name of the Association of Ideas ; and as I 
would not wish, excepting in a case of necessity, to depart from 
common language, or to expose myself to the charge of delivering 
old doctrines in a new form, I shall continue to make use of the 

* The superiority which the man of the world possesses over the recluse student, in 
his knowledge of mankind, is partly the result of this quickness and facility of associa¬ 
tion. Those trifling circumstances in conversation and behaviour, which, to the latter, 
convey only their most obvious and avowed meaning, lay open to the former, many of 
the trains of thought which are connected with them, and frequently give him a distinct 
view of a character, on that vei’y side where it is supposed to be most concealed from 
his observation. 


150 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


same expression.] I am sensible, indeed, that the expression is by- 
no means unexceptionable ; and that, if it be used, as it frequently 
has been, to comprehend those laws by which the succession of all 
our thoughts and of all our mental operations is regulated, the word 
idea must be understood in a sense much more extensive than it is 
commonly employed in. It is very justly remarked by Dr. Reid, 
that “ memory, judgment, reasoning, passions, affections, and pur¬ 
poses ; in a word, every operation of the mind, excepting those of 
sense, is excited occasionally in the train of our thoughts ; so that, 
if we make the train of our thoughts to be only a train of ideas, the 
word idea must be understood to denote all these operations.” In 
continuing, therefore, to employ, upon this subject, that language, 
which has been consecrated by the practice of our best philosophical 
writers in England, I would not be understood to dispute the 
advantages which might be derived from the introduction of a new 
phrase, more precise and more applicable to the fact. 

The ingenious author whom I last quoted, seems to think that 
the association of ideas has no claim to be considered as an original 
principle, or as an ultimate fact in our nature. “ I believe,” says 
he, “ that the original principles of the mind, of which we can give 
no account, but that such is our constitution, are more in number 
than is commonly thought. But we ought not to multiply them 
without necessity. That trains of thinking, which by frequent 
repetition have become familiar, should spontaneously offer them¬ 
selves to our fancy, seems to require no other original quality but 
the power of habit.” 

With this observation I cannot agree; because I think it more 
philosophical to resolve the power of habit into the association of 
ideas, than to resolve the association of ideas into habit. 

[The word habit, in the sense in which it is commonly employed, 
expresses that facility which the mind acquires, in all its exertions, 
both animal and intellectual, in consequence of practice. We apply 
it to the dexterity of the workman : to the extemporary fluency 
of the orator; to the rapidity of the arithmetical accountant. That 
this facility is the effect of practice, we know from experience to be 
a fact; but it does not seem to be an ultimate fact, nor incapable of 
analysis.] 

In the Essay on Attention, I showed'that the effects of practice 
are produced partly on the body, and partly on the mind. The 
muscles which we employ in mechanical operations, become 
stronger, and become more obedient to the will. This is a fact, of 
which it is probable that philosophy will never be able to give any 
explanation. 

But even in mechanical -operations, the effects of practice are 
produced partly on the mind; and, as far as this is the case, they 
are resolvable into what philosophers call the association of ideas ; 
or into that general fact, which Dr. Reid himself has stated, “ that 
trains of thinking, which by frequent repetition have become 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


151 


familiar, spontaneously offer themselves to the mind.” In the case 
of habits which are purely intellectual, the effects of practice resolve 
themselves completely into this principle: and it appears to me 
more precise and more satisfactory, to state the principle itself as a 
law of our constitution, than to slur it over under the concise appel¬ 
lation of habit , which we apply in common to mind and to body. 

The tendency in the human mind to associate or connect its 
thoughts together, is sometimes called, but very improperly, the 
imagination. Between these two parts of our constitution, there is, 
indeed, a very intimate relation ; and it is probably owing to this 
relation, that they have been so generally confounded under the 
same name. When the mind is occupied about absent objects of 
sense, (which, I believe, it is habitually in the great majority of 
mankind,) .its train of thought is merely a series of conceptions; or, 
in common language, of imaginations.* In the case, too, of poetical 
imagination, it is the association of ideas that supplies the materials 
out of which its combinations are formed; and when such an imagin¬ 
ary combination is become familiar to the mind, it is the association 
of ideas that connects its different parts together, and unites them 
into one whole. The association of ideas, therefore, although per¬ 
fectly distinct from the power of imagination, is immediately and 
essentially subservient to all its exertions. 

The last observation seems to me to point out, also, the circum¬ 
stance which has led the greater part of English writers to use the 
words imagination and fancy as synonymous. It is obvious that a 
creative imagination, when a person possesses it so habitually that 
it may be regarded as forming one of the characteristics of his 
genius, implies a power of summoning up, at pleasure, a particular 
class of ideas; and of ideas related to each other in a particular 
manner ; which power can be the result only of certain habits of 
association which the individual has acquired. It is to this power 
of the mind, which is evidently a particular turn of thought, and not 
one of the common principles of our nature, that our best writers 
(so far as I am able to judge) refer, in general, when they make use 
of the word fancy: I say, in general; for in disquisitions of this 
sort, in which the best writers are seldom precise and steady in the 
employment of words, it is only to their prevailing practice that we 
can appeal as an authority. What the particular relations are, by 
which those ideas are connected that are subservient to poetical 
imagination, I shall not inquire at present. I think they are 
chiefly those of resemblance and analogy. But whatever they may 
be, the power of summoning up at pleasure the ideas so related, as 
it is the ground-work of poetical genius, is of sufficient importance 
in the human constitution to deserve an appropriated name; and, 

* Accordingly, Hobbes calls the train of thought in the mind, “ Consequents sive 
series imaginationum.” “ Per seriem imaginationum intelligo successionem unius 
cogitationis ad aliam.”—Leviathan, cap. iii. 

[A succession or series of imaginations. By a series of imaginations, I mean one 
thought succeeding to another.] 


152 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


for this purpose, the word fancy would appear to be the most con¬ 
venient that our language affords. 

Dr. Reid has somewhere observed, that “ the part of our con¬ 
stitution on which the association of ideas depends, was called, by 
the older English writers, the fantasy or fancy an use of the 
word, we may remark, which coincides, in many instances, with that 
which I propose to make of it. It differs from it only in this, that 
these writers applied it to the association of ideas in general, 
whereas I restrict its application to that habit of association, which 
is subservient to poetical imagination. 

According to the explanation which has now been given of the 
word fancy, the office of this power is to collect materials for the 
imagination; and, therefore, the latter power presupposes the 
former, while the former does not necessarily suppose the latter. A 
man whose habits of association present to him, for illustrating or 
embellishing a subject, a number of resembling, or of analogous 
ideas, we call a man of fancy; but for an effort of imagination, 
various other powers are necessary, particularly the powers of taste 
and of judgment; without which, we can hope to produce nothing 
that will be a source of pleasure to others. It is the power of fancy 
which supplies the poet with metaphorical language, and with all 
the analogies which are the foundation of his allusions: but it is 
the power of imagination that creates the complex scenes he 
describes, and the fictitious characters he delineates. To fancy, we 
apply the epithets of rich or luxuriant; to imagination, those of 
beautiful or sublime. 

II. Of the Principles of Association among our Ideas. —The facts 
which I stated in the former section, to illustrate the tendency of a 
perception, or of an idea, to suggest ideas related to it, are so obvious 
as to be matter of common remark. But the relations which con¬ 
nect all our thoughts together, and the laws which regulate their 
succession, were but little attended to before the publication of Mr. 
Hume’s writings. 

It is well known to those who are in the least conversant with 
the present state of metaphysical science, that [this eminent writer 
has attempted to reduce all the principles of association among our 
ideas to three : resemblance , contiguity , in time and place, and cause 
and effect. The attempt was great, and worthy of his genius ; but 
it has been shown by several writers since his time,* that his 

* See, in particular, Lord Kaimes’s Elements of Criticism, and Dr. Gerard’s Essay 
on Genius.—See also Dr. Campbell’s Philosophy of Rhetoric, vol. i. p. 197. 

It is observed by Dr. Beattie, that something like an attempt to enumerate the laws 
of association is to be found in Aristotle, who, in speaking of recollection, insinuates 
with his usual brevity, that “ the relations, by which we are led from one thought to 
another, in tracing out, or hunting afterp as he calls it, “ any particular thought which 
does not immediately occur, are chiefly three, resemblance, contrariety, and con¬ 
tiguity.”—See Dissertations, Moral and Critical, p. 9 ; also p. 145. 

The passage to which Dr. Beattie refers, is as follows :— 

'Oray ovv ava/JUfj.vr)aKw/jLeOa, KLi/ovgeda ruu irporepcw nva KLurjcrecop, ecos av KivgQupL^v 
puff 7\v iKeivrj ew0e. A to Kai to Oripevo/Aev vorivavres arro too vvv, t] aWov tivos 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 153 

enumeration is not only incomplete, but that it is even indistinct, 
as far as it goes.] 

It is not necessary for my present purpose, that I should enter 
into a critical examination of this part of Mr. Hume’s system; 
or that I should attempt to specify those principles of association 
which he has omitted. Indeed, it does not seem to me, that the 
problem admits of a satisfactory solution; for there is no possible 
relation among the objects of our knowledge, which may not serve 
to connect them together in the mind; and, therefore, although 
one enumeration may be more comprehensive than another, a 
perfectly complete enumeration is scarcely to be expected. 

Nor is it merely in consequence of the relations among things, 
that our notions of them are associated: they are frequently 
coupled together by means of relations among the words which 
denote them; such as a similarity of sound, or other circum¬ 
stances still more trifling. The alliteration which is so common 
in poetry, and in proverbial sayings, seems to arise, partly at 
least, from associations of ideas founded on the accidental circum¬ 
stance, of the two words which express them beginning with the 
same letter. 

“ But thousands die, without or this or that, 

Die, and endow a college or a cat.”—Pope’s Ep. to Lord Bathurst. 

“ Ward tried, on puppies, and the poor, his drop.”—Id. Imitat. of Horace. 

“ Puffs, powders, patches ; bibles, billets-doux.”—Rape of the Lock. 

This indeed pleases only on slight occasions, when it may be 
supposed that the mind is in some degree playful, and under the 
influence' of those principles of association which commonly* take 
place when we are careless and disengaged. Every person must 
be offended with the second line of the following couplet, which 
forms part of a very sublime description of the Divine power: 

i( Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 

As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart.”—Essay on Man, Ep. i. 

To these observations, it may be added, that things which have no 
known relation to each other are often associated, in consequence 
of their producing similar effects on the mind. Some of the finest 
poetical allusions are founded on this principle ; and accordingly, 
if the reader is not possessed of sensibility congenial to that of the 
poet, he will be apt to overlook their meaning, or to censure them 
as absurd. To such a critic it would not be easy to vindicate the 

Kai a<f> 6 /jloiov, 7 ) ivavnov , r) tov (Tvveyyvs. A 1a tovto yiveTcu f) ava[xvr)<ns. —Aristot. de 
Memor. et Reminisc., vol. i. p. 681., edit. Du Yal. 

[When therefore we recollect, we are moved by certain former impulses until we are 
moved in the way that they were wont to be. On which we hunt out the consecutive 
train of thought, conjecturing, from what at the moment occurred to us, or from some¬ 
thing else, and from similarity, or from contrariety, or from contiguity. And thus 
recollection is effected.] 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


154 


beauty of the following stanza, in an ode addressed to a lady by the 
author of the “ Seasons 

O thou, whose tender, serious eye, 

Expressive speaks the soul I love ; 

The gentle azure of the sky. 

The pensive shadows of the grove.” 

I have already said, that the view of the subject which I propose 
to take, does not require a complete enumeration of our principles 
of association. There is, however, an important distinction among 
them, to which I shall have occasion frequently to refer; and 
which, as far as I know, has not hitherto attracted the notice of 
philosophers. The relations upon which some of them are founded, 
are perfectly obvious to the mind; those which are the foundation 
of others, are discovered only in consequence of particular efforts 
of attention. Of the former kind, are the relations of resemblance 
and analogy, of contrariety, of vicinity in time and place, and 
those which arise from accidental coincidences in the sound of 
different words. These, in general, connect our thoughts together, 
when they are suffered to take their natural course, and when we 
are conscious of little or no active exertion. Of the latter kind, are 
the relations of cause and effect, of means and end, of premises and 
conclusion; and those others, which regulate the train of thought 
in the mind of the philosopher, when he is engaged in a particular 
investigation. 

It is owing to this distinction, that transitions, which would be 
highly offensive in philosophical writing, are the most pleasing of 
any in poetry. In the former species of composition, we expect to 
see an author lay down a distinct plan or method, and observe it 
rigorously; without allowing himself to ramble into digressions, 
suggested by the accidental ideas or expressions which may occur 
to him in his progress. In that state of mind in which poetry is 
read, such digressions are not only agreeable, but necessary to the 
effect; and an arrangement founded on the spontaneous and seem¬ 
ingly casual order of our thoughts, pleases more than one suggested 
by an accurate analysis of the subject. 

How absurd would the long digression in praise of industry, in 
Thomson’s “ Autumn,” appear, if it occurred in a prose essay ! a 
digression, however, which, in that beautiful poem, arises naturally 
and insensibly from the view of a luxuriant harvest; and which as 
naturally leads the poet back to the point where his excursion 
began :— 

“ All is the gift of Industry ; whate’er 
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
Delightful. Pensive Winter, cheered by him, 

Sits at the social fire,and happy hears 
Th’ excluded tempest idly rave along; 

His harden’d fingers deck the gaudy Spring ; 

Without him Summer were an arid waste; 

Nor to th’ Autumnal months could thus transmit 
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 

That waving round, recall my wand’ring song.” 


OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


155 

In Goldsmith’s “ Traveller ” the transitions are managed with 
consummate skill; and yet how different from that logical method 
which would be suited to a philosophical discourse on the state of 
society in the different parts of Europe! Some of the finest are 
suggested by the associating principle of contrast. Thus, after 
describing the effeminate and debased Romans, the poet proceeds 
to the Swiss : 

“ My soul turn from them—turn we to survey 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display.” 

And, after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant but 
unrefined people, his thoughts are led to those of the French: 

“ To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 

I turn—and France displays her bright domain.” 

The transition which occurs in the following lines, seems to be 
suggested by the accidental mention of a word; and is certainly 
one of the happiest in our language: 

“ Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! 

Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; 

War in each breast, and freedom on each brow, 

How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! 

—Fired at the sound, my Genius spreads her wing, 

And flies, where Britain courts the western spring.” 

Numberless illustrations of the same remark might be collected 
from the ancient poets, more particularly from the Georgies of 
Virgil, where the singular felicity of the transitions has attracted the 
notice even of those who have been the least disposed to indulge 
themselves in philosophical refinements concerning the principles 
of criticism. A celebrated instance of this kind occurs in the end 
of the first book; the consideration of the weather and of its 
common prognostics leading the fancy, in the first place, to those 
more extraordinary phenomena which, according to the supersti¬ 
tious belief of the vulgar, are the forerunners of political revolu¬ 
tions ; and afterwards, to the death of Caesar, and the battles of 
Pharsalia and Philippi. The manner in which the poet returns to 
his original subject, displays that exquisite art which is to be derived 
only from the diligent and enlightened study of nature. 

u Scilicet et tempus veniet, cum finibus illis 
Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro, 

Exesa inveniet scabra rubigine pila ; 

Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanes, 

Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulchiis.” * 

The facility with which ideas are associated in the mind, is very 
different in different individuals; a circumstance which, as I shall 

* [The time at length shall come when lab’ring swains, 

As with their plough they turn these guilty plains, 

’Gainst hollow helms their heavy drags shall strike, 

And clash ’gainst many a sword and rusty pike ; 

View the vast graves with horror and amaze, 

And at huge bones of giant heroes gaze. 

Warton, Georg, i. 1. 573.] 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


156 


afterwards show, lays the foundation of remarkable varieties among 
men, both in respect of genius and of character. I am inclined, 
too, to think that, in the other sex, (probably in consequence of 
early education,) ideas are more easily associated together than m 
the minds of men. Hence the liveliness of their fancy, and the 
superiority they possess in epistolary writing, and in those kinds of 
poetry, in which the principal recommendations are, ease of thought 
and expression. Hence, too, the facility with which they contract 
or lose habits, and accommodate their minds to new situations; and 
I may add, the disposition they have to that species of superstition 
which is founded on accidental combinations of circumstances. The 
influence which this facility of association has on the power of taste, 
shall be afterwards considered. 

III. Of the ' Power which the Mind has over the Train of its 
Thoughts. —By means of the association of ideas, a constant current 
of thoughts, if I may use the expression, is made to pass through 
the mind while we are awake. Sometimes the current is inter¬ 
rupted, and the thoughts diverted into a new channel, in conse¬ 
quence of the ideas suggested by other men, or of the objects of 
perception with which we are surrounded. So completely, how¬ 
ever, is the mind in this particular subjected to physical laws, that 
it has been justly observed by Lord Kaimes and others, we cannot, 
by an effort of our will, call up any one thought; and that the 
train of our ideas depends on causes which operate in a manner 
inexplicable by us. 

This observation, although it has been censured as paradoxical, 
is almost self-evident; for to call up a particular thought, sup¬ 
poses it to be already in the mind. As I shall have frequent 
occasion, however, to refer to the observation afterwards, I shall 
endeavour to obviate the only objection which, I think, can rea¬ 
sonably be urged against it; and which is founded on that operation 
of the mind which is commonly called recollection or intentional 
memory. 

It is evident, that before we attempt to recollect the particular 
circumstances of any event, that event in general must have been 
an object of our attention. We remember the outlines of the story, 
but cannot at first give a complete account of it. If we wish to 
recall these circumstances, there are only two ways in which we 
can proceed. We must either form different suppositions, and then 
consider which of these tallies best with the other circumstances 
of the event; or, by revolving in our mind the circumstances we 
remember, we must endeavour to excite the recollection of the 
other circumstances associated with them. The first of these pro¬ 
cesses is, properly speaking, an inference of reason, and plainly 
furnishes no exception to the doctrine already delivered. We have 
an instance of the other mode of recollection, Avhen we are at a loss 
for the beginning of a sentence in reciting a composition that we 
do not perfectly remember; in which case we naturally repeat over, 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


157 

two or three times, the concluding words of the preceding sentence, 
in order to call up the other words which used to be connected 
with them in the memory. In this instance, it is evident, that the 
circumstances we desire to remember, are not recalled to the mind 
in immediate consequence of an exertion of volition, but are sug¬ 
gested by some other circumstances with which they are connected, 
independently of our will, by the laws of our constitution. 

Notwithstanding, however, the immediate dependence of the 
train of our thoughts on the laws of association, it must not he 
imagined that the will possesses no influence over it. This influ¬ 
ence, indeed, is not exercised directly and immediately, as we are 
apt to suppose, on a superficial view of the subject: but it is, 
nevertheless, very extensive in its effects; and the different degrees 
in which it is possessed by different individuals, constitute some of 
the most striking inequalities among men, in point of intellectual 
capacity. 

(1) [Of the powers which the mind possesses over the train of 

its thoughts, the most obvious is its power of singling out any one of 
them at pleasure ; of detaining it; and of making it a particular object 
of attention. ] By doing so, we not only stop the succession that 
would otherwise take place; but, in consequence of our bringing 
to view the less obvious relations among our ideas, we frequently 
divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. If, for 

example, when I am indolent and inactive, the name of Sir Isaac 
Newton accidentally occur to me, it will perhaps suggest, one after 
another, the names of some other eminent mathematicians and 
astronomers, or of some of his illustrious contemporaries and friends: 
and a number of them may pass in review before me, without 
engaging my curiosity in any considerable degree. In a different 
state of mind, the name of Newton will lead my thoughts to the 
principal incidents of his life, and the more striking features of his 
character: or, if my mind be ardent and vigorous, will lead my 
attention to the sublime discoveries he made ; and gradually engage 
me in some philosophical investigation. To every object, there are 
others which bear obvious and striking relations; and others, also, 
whose relation to it does not readily occur to us, unless we dwell 
upon it for some time, and place it before us in different points of 
view. 

(2) [But the principal power we possess over the train of our 
ideas, is founded on the influence which our habits of thinking have 
on the laws of association ; an influence which is so great, that we 
may often form a pretty shrewd judgment concerning a man’s pre¬ 
vailing turn of thought, from the transitions he makes in conversa¬ 
tion or in writing.] It is well known, too, that by means of habit, 
a particular associating principle may be strengthened to such a 
degree, as to give us a command of all the different ideas in our 
mind, which have a certain relation to each other; so that when 


158 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


any one of the class occurs to us, we have almost a certainty that 
it will suggest the rest. What confidence in his own powers 
must a speaker possess, when he rises without premeditation, in 
a popular assembly, to amuse his audience with a lively or an 
humorous speech! Such a confidence, it is evident, can only arise 
from a long experience of the strength of particular associating 
principles. 

To how great a degree this part of our constitution may he 
influenced by habit, appears from facts which are familiar to every 
one. A man who has an ambition to become a punster, seldom or 
never fails in the attainment of his object; that is, he seldom or 
never fails in acquiring a power which other men have not, of 
summoning up, on a particular occasion, a number of words different 
from each other in meaning, and resembling each other, more or 
less, in sound. I am inclined to think that even genuine wit is a 
habit acquired in a similar way; and that, although some indivi¬ 
duals may, from natural constitution, be more fitted than others 
to acquire this habit; it is founded in every case on a peculiarly 
strong association among certain classes of our ideas, which gives 
the person who possesses it, a command over those ideas which is 
denied to ordinary men. But there is no instance in which the 
effect of habits of association is more remarkable than in those men 
who possess a facility of rhyming. That a man should be able to 
express his thoughts perspicuously and elegantly, under the re¬ 
straints which rhyme imposes, would appear to he incredible, if we 
did not know it to be fact. Such a power implies a wonderful 
command both of ideas and of expressions ; and yet daily experience 
shows that it may be gained with very little practice. Pope tells 
us with respect to himself, that he could express himself not only 
more concisely, hut more easily, in rhyme than in prose.* 

Nor is it only in these trifling accomplishments that we may 
trace the influence of habits of association. In every instance of 
invention, either in the fine arts, in the mechanical arts, or in the 
sciences, there is some new idea, or some new combination of 
ideas, brought to light by the inventor. This, undoubtedly, may 
often happen in a way which he is unable to explain; that is, his 
invention may be suggested to him by some lucky thought, the 
origin of which he is unable to trace. But when a man possesses 
an habitual fertility of invention in any particular art or science, 
and can rely, with confidence, on his inventive powers, whenever 
he is called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, by pre¬ 
vious habits of study, a command over certain classes of his ideas, 
which enables him, at pleasure, to bring them under his review. 

* “ When habit is once gained, nothing so easy as practice. Cicero writes, that 
Antipater the Sidonian could pour forth hexameters extempore ; and that whenever 
he chose to versify, words followed him of course. We may add to Antipater, the 

ancient rhapsodists of the Greeks, and the modern improvisatori of the Italians.”_ 

Harris's Phil. Inq. 108. 110. 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


15 9 

The illustration of these subjects may throw light on some pro¬ 
cesses of the mind, which are not in general well understood: and 
I shall accordingly, in the following section, offer a few hints with 
respect to those habits of association which are the foundation of 
wit; of the power of rhyming; of poetical fancy; and of invention 
in matters of science. 

IV. Illustrations of the Doctrine stated in the preceding Section. 
[1. Of Wit .—According to Locke, Wit consists, “ in the assemblage 
of ideas; and putting those together with quickness and variety, 
wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity.” (Essay on 
Human Understanding, book ii. chap. 11.) I would add to this 
definition, (rather by way of comment than of amendment,) that 
wit implies a power of calling up at pleasure the ideas which it 
combines: and I am inclined to believe, that the entertainment 
which it gives to the hearer, is founded, in a considerable degree, 
on his surprise at the command which the man of wit has acquired 
over a part of the constitution which is so little subject to the 
will.] 

That the effect of wit depends partly, at least, on the circumstance 
now mentioned, appears evidently from this, that we are more 
pleased with a bon mot which occurs in conversation, than with one 
in print; and that we never fail to receive disgust from wit, when 
we suspect it to be premeditated. The pleasure, too, we receive 
from wit, is heightened, when the original idea is started by one 
person, and the related idea by another. Dr. Campbell has 
remarked, that “ a witty repartee is infinitely more pleasing, than 
a witty attack; and that an allusion will appear excellent when 
thrown out extempore in conversation, which would be deemed 
execrable in print.” In all these cases, the wit considered absolutely 
is the same. The relations which are discovered between the com¬ 
pared ideas are equally new: and yet, as soon as we suspect that 
the wit was premeditated, the pleasure we receive from it is infinitely 
diminished. Instances indeed may be mentioned, in which we are 
pleased with contemplating an unexpected relation between ideas, 
without any reference to the habits of association in the mind of 
the person who discovered it. A bon mot produced at the game of 
cross-purposes, would not fail to create amusement; but in such 
cases, our pleasure seems chiefly to arise from the surprise we feel 
at so extraordinary a coincidence between a question and an answer 
coming from persons who had no direct communication with each 
other. 

Of the effect added to wit by the promptitude with which its 
combinations are formed, Fuller appears to have had a very just 
idea, from what he has recorded of the social hours of our two great 
English Dramatists. “ Jonson’s parts were not so ready to run of 
themselves, as able to answer the spur; so that it may be truly said 
of him, that he had an elaborate wit , wrought out by his own indus¬ 
try.—Many were the wit combats between him and Shakespeare, 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


160 


which, two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English 
man of war. Jonson, like the former, was built far higher in 
learning; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare, with 
the English man of war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could 
turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by 
the quickness of his wit and invention.” (History of the Worthies 
of England. London, 1662.) 

I before observed, that the pleasure we receive from wit is 
increased, when the two ideas between which the relation is dis¬ 
covered, are suggested by different persons. In the case of a bon mot 
occurring in conversation, the reason of this is abundantly obvious; 
because, when the related ideas are suggested by different persons, 
we have a proof that the wit was not premeditated. But even in 
a written composition, we are much more delighted when the sub¬ 
ject was furnished to the author by another person, than when he 
chooses the topic on which he is to display his wit. How much would 
the pleasure we receive from the Key to the Lock be diminished, if 
we suspected that the author had the key in view when he wrote 
that poem; and that he introduced some expressions, in order to 
furnish a subject for the wit of the commentator! How totally 
would it destroy the pleasure we receive from a parody on a poem, 
if we suspected that both were productions of the same author! 
The truth seems to be, that when both the related ideas are sug¬ 
gested by the same person, we have not a very satisfactory proof 
of anything uncommon in the intellectual habits of the author. 
We may suspect that both ideas occurred to him at the same time; 
and we know that in the dullest and most phlegmatic minds, such 
extraordinary associations will sometimes take place. But when 
the subject of the wit is furnished by one person, and the wit 
suggested by another, we have a proof, not only that the author’s 
mind abounds with such singular associations, but that he has his 
wit perfectly at command. 

[As an additional confirmation of these observations, we may 
remark, that the more an author is limited by his subject, the more 
we are pleased with his wit. And, therefore, the effect of wit does 
not arise solely from the unexpected relations which it presents to 
the mind, but arises, in part, from the surprise it excites at those 
intellectual habits which give it birth.] It is evident, that the more 
the author is circumscribed in the choice of his materials, the greater 
must be the command which he has acquired over those associating 
principles on which wit depends, and of consequence, according to 
the foregoing doctrine, the greater must be the surprise and the 
pleasure which his wit produces. In Addison’s celebrated verses 
to Sir Godfrey Kneller on his picture of George the First, in which 
he compares the painter to Phidias, and the subjects of his pencil 
to the Grecian Deities, the range of the poet’s wit was necessarily 
confined within very narrow bounds; and what principally delights 
us in that performance is, the surprising ease and felicity with which 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 161 

he runs the parallel between the English history and the Greek 
mythology. Of all the allusions which the following passage con¬ 
tains, there is not one, taken singly, of very extraordinary merit; 
and yet the effect of the whole is uncommonly great, from the 
singular power of combination, which so long and so difficult an 
exertion discovers. 

“ Wise Phidias thus, his skill to prove, 

Thro’ many a god advanced to Jove, 

And taught the polish’d rocks to shine 
With airs and lineaments divine. 

Till Greece amazed and half afraid, 

Th’ assembled Deities survey’d. 

Great Pan, who wont to chase the fair, 

And lov’d the spreading oak, was there ; 

Old Saturn, too, with up-cast eyes, 

Beheld his abdicated skies ; 

And mighty Mars, for war renown’d, 

In adamantine armour frown’d ; 

By him the childless Goddess rose, 

Minerva, studious to compose 

Her twisted threads ; the web she strung, 

And o’er a loom of marble hung ; 

Thetis, the troubled ocean’s queen, 

Match’d with a mortal next was seen, 

Reclining on a funeral urn. 

Her short-lived darling son to mourn; 

The last was he, whose thunder slew 
The Titan race, a rebel crew, 

That from a hundred hills allied. 

In impious league their King defied.” 

According to the view which I have given of the nature of wit, 
the pleasure we derive from that assemblage of ideas which it pre¬ 
sents, is greatly heightened and enlivened by our surprise at the 
command displayed over a part of the constitution, which, in our 
own case, we find to be so little subject to the will. We consider 
wit as a sort of feat or trick of intellectual dexterity, analogous, in 
some respects, to the extraordinary performances of jugglers and 
rope- dancers ; and, in both cases, the pleasure we receive from the 
exhibition, is explicable, in part , (I, by no means, say entirely ,) on 
the same principles. 

If these remarks be just, it seems to follow as a consequence, that 
those men who are most deficient in the power of prompt combina¬ 
tion, will be most poignantly affected by it, when exerted at the 
will of another : and therefore, the charge of jealousy and envy 
brought against rival wits, when disposed to look grave at each 
other’s jests, may perhaps be obviated in a way less injurious to 
their character. 

The same remarks suggest a limitation, or rather an explanation, 
of an assertion of Lord Chesterfield’s, that “ genuine wit never made 
any man laugh since the creation of the world.” The observation, 

I believe, to be just, if by genuine wit, we mean wit wholly divested 
of every mixture of humour: and if by laughter, we mean that 
convulsive and noisy agitation which is excited by the ludicrous. 


162 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


But there is unquestionably a smile appropriated to the flashes of 
wit;—a smile of surprise and wonder;—not altogether unlike the 
effect produced on the mind and the countenance, by a feat of leger¬ 
demain when executed with uncommon success. 

[2. Of Rhyme .—The pleasure we receive from rhyme, seems 
also to arise, partly, from our surprise at the command which the 
poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, in order to be 
able to express himself with elegance, and the appearance of ease, 
under the restraint which rhyme imposes. In witty or in humorous 
performances, this surprise serves to enliven that which the wit or 
the humour produces, and renders its effects more sensible.] How 
flat do the liveliest and most ludicrous thoughts appear in blank 
verse ? And how wonderfully is the* wit of Pope heightened, by 
the easy and happy rhymes in which it is expressed ? 

It must not, however, be imagined, either in the case of wit or 
of rhyme, that the pleasure arises solely from our surprise at the 
uncommon habits of association which the author discovers. In 
the former case, there must be presented to the mind, an unexpected 
analogy or relation between different ideas: and perhaps other cir¬ 
cumstances must concur to render the wit perfect. If the combina¬ 
tion has no other merit than that of bringing together two ideas 
which never met before, we may he surprised at its oddity, but we 
do not consider it as a proof of wit. On the contrary, the want of 
any .analogy or relation between the combined ideas, leads us to 
suspect, that the one did not suggest the other, in consequence of 
any habits of association; but that the two were brought together 
by study, or by mere accident. All that I affirm is, that when the 
analogy or relation is pleasing in itself, our pleasure is heightened 
by our surprise at the author’s habits of association when compared 
with our own. In the case of rhyme, too, there is undoubtedly a 
certain degree of pleasure arising from the recurrence of the same 
sound. We frequently observe children amuse themselves with 
repeating over single words which rhyme together: and the lower 
people, who derive little pleasure from poetry, excepting in so far 
as it affects the ear, are so pleased with the echo of the rhymes, 
that when they read verses where it is not perfect, they are apt to 
supply the poet’s defects, by violating the common rules of pro¬ 
nunciation. This pleasure, however, is heightened by our admira¬ 
tion at the miraculous powers which the poet must have acquired 
over the train of his ideas, and over all the various modes of expres¬ 
sion which the language affords, in order to convey instruction and 
entertainment, without transgressing the established laws of regular 
versification. In some of the lower kinds of poetry ; for example, 
in acrostics, and in the lines which are adapted to bouts rimes, the 
merit lies entirely in this command of thought and expression ; or, 
in other words, in a command of ideas founded on extraordinary 
habits of association. Even some authors of a superior class, 
occasionally show an inclination to display their knack at rhyming, 
by introducing, at the end of the first line of a couplet, some word to 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


163 


which the language hardly affords a corresponding sound. Swift, 
in his more trifling pieces, abounds with instances of this ; and in 
Hudibras, when the author uses his double and triple rhymes, 
many couplets have no merit whatever but what arises from diffi¬ 
culty of execution. 

The pleasure we receive from rhyme in serious compositions, 
arises from a combination of different circumstances which my 
present subject does not lead me to investigate particularly.* I 
am persuaded, however, that it arises, in part, from our surprise at 
the poet’s habits of association, which enable him to convey his 
thoughts with ease and beauty, notwithstanding the narrow limits 
within which his choice of expression is confined. One proof of 
this is, that if there appear any mark of constraint, either in the 
ideas or in the expression, our pleasure is proportionally dimi¬ 
nished. The thoughts must seem to suggest each other, and the 
rhymes to be only an accidental circumstance. The same remark 
may be made on the measure of the verse. When in its greatest 
perfection, it does not appear to be the result of labour, but to be 
dictated by nature, or prompted by inspiration. In Pope’s best 
verses, the idea is expressed with as little inversion of style, and 
with as much conciseness, precision, and propriety, as the author 
could have attained, had he been writing prose : without any appa¬ 
rent exertion on his part, the words seem spontaneously to arrange 
themselves in the most musical numbers. 

t( While still a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 

I lisp’d in numbers, for the numbers came.’' 

This facility of versification, it is true, may be, and probably is, 
in most cases, only apparent: and it is reasonable to think, that in 
the most perfect poetical productions, not only the choice of words, 
but the choice of ideas, is influenced by the rhymes. In a prose 
composition, the author holds on in a direct course, according to 
the plan he has previously formed; but in a poem, the rhymes 
which occur to him are perpetually diverting him to the right 
hand or to the left, by suggesting ideas which do not naturally 
rise out of his subject. This, I presume, is Butler’s meaning in 
the following couplet:— 

(t Rhymes the rudder afe of verses, 

With which, like ships, they steer their courses.” 

* In elegiac poetry, the recurrence of the same sound, and the uniformity in the 
structure of the versification which this necessarily occasions, are peculiarly suited to 
the inactivity of the mind, and to the slow and equable succession of its ideas, when 
under the influence of tender or melancholy passions ; and accordingly, in such cases, 
even the Latin poets, though the genius of their language be very ill fitted for compo¬ 
sitions in rhyme, occasionally indulge themselves in something very nearly approach¬ 
ing to it : 

“ Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem, 

Et tangant magnas tristia fata Deas ; 

Flebilis indignos Elegeia solve capillos, 

Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit.” 

Many other instances of the same kind might be produced from the elegiac verses of 
Ovid and Tibullus. 


m2 


PART 


CHAP. V. 


164 


But although, this may be the case in fact, the poet must employ 
all his art to conceal it: insomuch that if he finds himself under a 
necessity to introduce, on account of the rhymes, a superfluous 
idea, or an awkward expression, he must place it in the first line 
of the couplet, and not in the second; for the reader, naturally 
presuming that the lines were composed in the order in which the 
author arranges them, is more apt to suspect the second line to be 
accommodated to the first, than the first to the second. And this 
slight artifice is, in general, sufficient to impose on that degree of 
attention with which poetry is read. Who can doubt that, in the 
following lines. Pope wrote the first for the sake of the second ? 

“ A wit’s a feather, and a chief a rod ; 

An honest man ’s the noblest work of God.” 

Were the first of these lines, or a line equally unmeaning, placed 
last, the couplet would have appeared execrable to a person of the 
most moderate taste. 

It affords a strong confirmation of the foregoing observations, 
that the poets of some nations have delighted in the practice of 
alliteration, as well as of rhyme; and have even considered it as an 
essential circumstance in versification. Dr. Beattie observes, that 
“ some ancient English poems are more distinguished by allitera¬ 
tion, than by any other poetical contrivance. In the works of 
Langland, even when no regard is had to rhyme, and but little to 
a rude sort of anapestic measure, it seems to have been a rule, that 
three words, at least, of each line should begin with the same 
letter.” A late author informs us, that, in the Icelandic poetry, 
alliteration is considered as a circumstance no less essential than 
rhyme. * He mentions also several other restraints, which must 
add wonderfully to the difficulty of versification ; and which appear 
to us to be perfectly arbitrary and capricious. If that really be 
the case, the whole pleasure of the reader or hearer arises from his 
surprise at the facility of the poet’s composition under these com¬ 
plicated restraints ; that is, from his surprise at the command which 
the poet has acquired over his thoughts and expressions. In our 
rhyme, I acknowledge, that the coincidence of sound is agreeable 
in itself; and only affirm, that the pleasure which the ear receives 
from it, is heightened by the other consideration. 

[3. Of Poetical Fancy .—There is another habit of association, 
which, in some men, is very remarkable; that which is the found¬ 
ation of poetical fancy: a talent which agrees with wit in some 
circumstances, but which differs from it essentially in others.] 

The pleasure we receive from wit, agrees in one particular with 

* “ The Icelandic poetry requires two things ; viz. words with the same initial 
letters, and words of the same sound. It was divided into stanzas, each of which con¬ 
sisted of four couplets ; and each of these couplets was again composed of two hemi- 
stichs, of which every one contained six syllables; and it was not allowed to augment 
this number, except in cases of the greatest necessity.”—See Van Troil’s Letters on 
Iceland, p. 208. 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


165 


the pleasure which arises from poetical allusions; that in both cases 
we are pleased with contemplating an analogy between two diffe¬ 
rent subjects. But they differ in this, that the man of wit has no 
other aim than to combine analogous ideas; * whereas no allusion 
can, with propriety, have a place in serious poetry unless it either 
illustrate or adorn the principal subject. If it has both these recom¬ 
mendations, the allusion is perfect. If it has neither, as is often 
the case with the allusions of Cowley and of Young, the fancy of 
the poet degenerates into wit. 

If these observations be well founded, they suggest a rule with 
respect to poetical allusions, which has not always been sufficiently 
attended to. It frequently happens, that two subjects bear an 
analogy to each other in more respects than one; and where such 
can be found, they undoubtedly furnish the most favourable of 
all occasions for the display of wit. But, in serious poetry, I am 
inclined to think, that however striking these analogies may be; 
and although each of them might, with propriety, be made the 
foundation of a separate allusion; it is improper, in the course of 
the same allusion, to include more than one of them; as by doing 
so, an author discovers an affectation of wit, or a desire of tracing 
analogies, instead of illustrating or adorning the subject of his 
composition. 

I formerly defined fancy to be a -power of associating ideas accord¬ 
ing to relations of resemblance and analogy. This definition will 
probably be thought too general; and to approach too near to that 
given of wit. In order to discover the necessary limitations, we 
shall consider what the circumstances are, which please us in poet¬ 
ical allusions. As these allusions are suggested by fancy, and are 
the most striking instances in which it displays itself, the received 
rules of critics with respect to them, may throw some light on the 
mental power which gives them birth. 

(1.) An allusion pleases, by illustrating a subject comparatively 
obscure. Hence, I apprehend, it will be found that allusions from 
the intellectual world to the material, are more pleasing, than from 
the material Avorld to the intellectual. Mason, in his Ode to 
Memory, compares the influence of that faculty over our ideas, to 
the authority of a general over his troops : 

- (i thou, whose sway 

The throng’d ideal hosts obey ;• 

Who bidst their ranks now vanish, now appear ; 

Flame in the van, or darken in the rear.” 

Would the allusion have been equally pleasing, from a general 
marshalling his soldiers, to memory and the succession of ideas ? 

The effect of a literal* and spiritless translation of a work of 
genius, has been compared to that of the figures which we see, 

* I speak here of pure and umnixed wit ; and not of wit, blended, as it is most 
commonly, with some degree of humour. 



166 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


when we look at the wrong side of a beautiful piece of tapestry. 
The allusion is ingenious and happy; but the pleasure which we 
receive from it arises, not merely from the analogy which it pre¬ 
sents to us, but from the illustration which it affords of the author’s 
idea. No one, surely, in speaking of a piece of tapestry, would 
think of comparing the difference between its sides, to that between 
an original composition and a literal translation! 

Cicero, and after him Mr. Locke, in illustrating the difficulty of 
attending to the subjects of our consciousness, have compared the 
mind to the eye, which sees every object around it, but is invisible 
to itself. To have compared the eye, in this respect, to the mind, 
would have been absurd. 

Mr. Pope’s comparison of the progress of youthful curiosity, in 
the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among the Alps, has 
been much, and justly, admired. How would the beauty of the 
allusion have been diminished, if the Alps had furnished the origi¬ 
nal subject, and not the illustration ! 

But although this rule holds, in general, I acknowledge, that 
instances may be produced, from our most celebrated poetical per¬ 
formances, of allusions from material objects, both to the intellectual 
and the moral worlds. These, however, are comparatively few in 
number, and are not to be found in descriptive or in didactic works; 
but in compositions written under the influence of some particular 
passion, or which are meant to express some peculiarity in the mind 
of the author. Thus, a melancholy man, who has met with many 
misfortunes in life, will be apt to moralise on every physical event, 
and every appearance of nature; because his attention dwells more 
habitually on human life and conduct, than on the material objects 
around him. This is the case with the banished Duke, in Shak- 
speare’s As you like it; who, in the language of that poet, 

(( Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing/’ 

But this is plainly a distempered state of the mind; and the allu¬ 
sions please, not so much by the analogies they present, as by the 
picture they give of the character of the person to whom they have 
occurred. 

(2.) An allusion pleases, by presenting a new and beautiful image 
to the mind. The analogy or the resemblance between this image 
and the principal subject, is agreeable of itself, and is indeed 
necessary, to furnish an apology for the transition which the writer 
makes, but the pleasure is wonderfully heightened, when the new 
image thus presented is a beautiful one. The following allusion, in 
one of Mr. Home’s tragedies, appears to me to unite almost every 
excellence: 

- “ Hope and fear, alternate, sway’d his breast; 

Like light and shade upon a waving field, 

Coursing each other, when the flying clouds 
Now hide, and now reveal, the sun.” 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


167 

Here the analogy is remarkably perfect; not only between light 
and hope, and between darkness and fear; but between the rapid 
succession of light and shade, and the momentary influences of these 
opposite emotions: while, at the same time, the new image which 
is presented to us, recalls one of the most pleasing and impressive 
incidents in rural scenery. 

* The foregoing observations suggest a reason why the principal 
stores of fancy are commonly supposed to be borrowed from the 
material world. Wit has a more extensive province, and delights 
to display its power of prompt and unexpected combination over 
all the various classes of our ideas: but the favourite excursions of 
fancy, are from intellectual and moral subjects to the appearances 
with which our senses are conversant. The truth is, that such 
allusions please more than any others in poetry. According to this 
limited idea of fancy, it presupposes, where it is possessed in an 
eminent degree, an extensive observation of natural objects, and a 
mind susceptible of strong impressions from them. It is thus only 
that a stock of images can be acquired ; and that these images will 
be ready to present themselves, whenever any analogous subject 
occurs. And hence probably it is, that poetical genius is almost 
always united with an exquisite sensibility to the beauties of nature. 

Before leaving the subject of fancy it may not be improper to 
remark that its two qualities are, liveliness and luxuriancy. The 
word lively , refers to the quickness of the association. The word 
rich , or luxuriant , to the variety of associated ideas. 

[4. Of Invention in the Arts and Sciences.—To these powers of 
wit and fancy, that of invention in the arts and sciences has a striking 
resemblance. Like them it implies a command over certain classes 
of ideas, which, in ordinary men, are not equally subject to the 
will, and, like them, too, it is the result of acquired habits, and not 
the original gift of nature.] 

Of the process of the mind in scientific invention, I propose 
afterwards to treat fully under the article of reasoning, and I shall 
therefore confine myself at present to a few detached remarks upon 
some views of the subject which are suggested by the foregoing 
inquiries. 

Before we proceed, it may be proper to take notice of the distinc¬ 
tion between invention and discovery. The object of the former, 
as has been frequently remarked, is to produce something which 
had no existence before; that of the latter to bring to light some¬ 
thing which did exist, but which was concealed from common 
observation. Thus we say, Otto Guerricke invented the air- 

pump ; Sanctorius invented the thermometer; Newton and Gre¬ 
gory invented the reflecting telescope; Galileo discovered the solar 
spots; and Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood. It 
appears, therefore, that improvements in the arts are properly 
called inventions , and that facts brought to light by means of obser¬ 
vation are properly called discoveries. 


PART 


CHAP. V. 


168 


Agreeable to this analogy is the use which we make of these 
words when we apply them to subjects purely intellectual. As 
truth is eternal and immutable, and has no dependence on our 
belief or disbelief of it, a person who brings to light a truth for¬ 
merly unknown is said to make a discovery. A person, on the 
other hand, who contrives a new method of discovering truth, is 
called an inventor. Pythagoras, we say, discovered the forty- 
seventh proposition of Euclid’s first book; Newton discovered the 
binomial theorem; but he invented the method of prime and ulti¬ 
mate ratios, and he invented the method of fluxions. 

In general, every advancement in knowledge is considered as a 
discovery; every contrivance by which we produce an effect, or 
accomplish an end, is considered as an invention. Discoveries in 
science, therefore, unless they are made by accident, imply the 
exercise of invention, and accordingly the word invention is com¬ 
monly used to express originality of genius in the sciences as well 
as in the arts. It is in this general sense that I employ it in the 
following observations. 

It was before remarked that in every instance of invention there 
is some new idea, or some new combination of ideas, which is 
brought to light by the inventor, and that although this may some¬ 
times happen in a way which he is unable to explain, yet when a 
man possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular 
art or science, and can rely with confidence on his inventive powers 
whenever he is called upon to exert them, he must have acquired, 
by previous habits of study, a command over those classes of his 
ideas which are subservient to the particular effort that he wishes 
to make. In what manner this command is acquired, it is not pos¬ 
sible, perhaps, to explain completely, but it appears to me to be 
chiefly in the two following ways. In the first place, by his habits 
of speculation he may have arranged his knowledge in such a man¬ 
ner as may render it easy for him to combine, at pleasure, all the 
various ideas in his mind which have any relation to the subject 
about which he is occupied: or, secondly, he may have learned by 
experience certain general rules, by means of which he can direct 
the train of his thoughts into those channels in which the ideas he 
is in quest of may be most likely to occur to him. 

1. [The former of these observations I shall not stop to illus¬ 
trate particularly at present, as the same subject will occur after¬ 
wards under the article of memory. It is sufficient for my purpose, 
in this chapter, to remark, that as habits of speculation have a ten¬ 
dency to classify our ideas, by leading us to refer particular facts 
and particular truths to general principles, and as it is from an 
approximation and comparison of related ideas that new discoveries 
in most instances result, the knowledge of the philosopher, even 
supposing that it is not more extensive, is arranged in a manner 
much more favourable to invention than in a mind unaccustomed 
to system.] 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


169 

How much invention depends on a proper combination of the 
materials of our knowledge, appears from the resources which occur 
to men of the lowest degree of ingenuity when they are pressed by 
any alarming difficulty and danger, and from the unexpected exer¬ 
tions made by very ordinary characters when called to situations 
which rouse their latent powers. In such cases, I take for granted, 
that necessity operates in producing invention, chiefly by concen¬ 
trating the attention of the mind to one set of ideas, by leading us 
to view these in every light, and to combine them variously with 
each other. As the same idea may be connected with an infinite 
variety of others by different relations, it may, according to cir¬ 
cumstances, at one time suggest one of these ideas, and at another 
time a different one. When we dwell long on the same idea, we 
obtain all the others to which it is in any way related, and thus are 
furnished with materials on which our powers of judgment and 
reasoning may be employed. The effect of the division of labour 
in multiplying mechanical contrivances is to be explained partly on 
the same principle. It limits the attention to a particular subject, 
and familiarises to the mind all the possible combinations of ideas 
which have any relation to it. 

[These observations suggest a remarkable difference between inven¬ 
tion and wit. The former depends, in most instances, on a com¬ 
bination of those ideas, which are connected by the less obvious 
principles of association ; and it may be called forth in almost any 
mind by the pressure of external circumstances. The ideas which 
must be combined, in order to produce the latter, are chiefly such as 
are associated by those slighter connexions which take place when 
the mind is careless and disengaged.] “ If you have real wit,” 
says Lord Chesterfield, “ it will flow spontaneously, and you need 
not aim at it; for in that case the rule of the gospel is reversed ; 
and it will prove. Seek and you shall not find.” Agreeably to this 
observation, wit is promoted by a certain degree of intoxication, 
which prevents the exercise of that attention which is necessary 
for invention in matters of science. Hence too it is, that those who 
have the reputation of wits, are commonly men confident in their 
own powers, who allow the train of their ideas to follow, in a great 
measure, its natural course; and hazard, in company, everything, 
good or bad, that occurs to them. Men of modesty and taste 
seldom attempt wit in a promiscuous society ; or if they are forced 
to make such an exertion, they are seldom successful. Such men, 
however, in the circle of their friends, to whom they can unbosom 
themselves without reserve, are frequently the most amusing and 
the most interesting of companions; as the vivacity of their wit is 
tempered by a correct judgment, and refined manners ; and as its 
effect is heightened by that sensibility and delicacy, with which 
we so rarely find it accompanied in the common intercourse of life. 

When a man of wit makes an exertion to distinguish himself, his 
sallies are commonly too far-fetched to please. He brings his mind 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


170 

into a state approaching to that of the inventor, and becomes rather 
ingenious than witty. This is often the case with the writers whom 
Johnson distinguishes by the name of the metaphysical poets. 

Those powers of invention, which necessity occasionally calls 
forth in uncultivated minds, some individuals possess habitually. 
The related ideas which, in the case of the former, are brought 
together by the slow efforts of attention and recollection, present 
themselves to the latter, in consequence of a more systematical 
arrangement of their knowledge. The instantaneousness with 
which such remote combinations are effected, some times appears so 
wonderful, that we are apt to ascribe it to something like inspira¬ 
tion ; but it must be remembered, that when any subject strongly 
and habitually occupies the thoughts, it gives us an interest in the 
observation of the most trivial circumstance which we suspect to 
have any relation to it, however distant; and by thus rendering the 
common objects and occurrences which the accidents of life present 
to us, subservient to one particular employment of the intellectual 
powers, establishes in the memory a connexion between our favourite 
pursuit, and all the materials with which experience and reflection 
have supplied us for the farther prosecution of it. 

£. [I observed, in the second place, that invention may be 
facilitated by general rules, which enable the inventor to direct the 
train of his thoughts into particular channels.] These rules (to 
ascertain which, ought to be one principal object of the logician) 
will afterwards fall under my consideration, when I come to 
examine those intellectual processes which are subservient to the 
discovery of truth. At present, I shall confine myself to a few 
general remarks ; in stating which I have no other aim than to 
show, to how great a degree invention depends on cultivation and 
habit, even in those sciences in which it is generally supposed that 
everything depends on natural genius. 

When we consider the geometrical discoveries of the ancients, in 
the form in which they are exhibited in the greater part of the 
works which have survived to our times, it is seldom possible for us 
to trace the steps by which they were led to their conclusions; and, 
indeed, the objects of this science are so unlike those of all others, 
that it is not unnatural for a person when he enters on the study, 
to be dazzled by its novelty, and to form an exaggerated conception 
of the genius of those men who first brought to light such a variety 
of truths, so profound and so remote from the ordinary course of 
our speculations. We find, however, that even at the time when 
the ancient analysis was unknown to the moderns, such mathema¬ 
ticians as had attended to the progress of the mind in the discovery 
of truth, concluded a priori , that the discoveries of the Greek 
geometers did not, at first, occur to them in the order in which they 
are stated in their writings. The prevailing opinion was, that they 
had possessed some secret method of investigation, which they care¬ 
fully concealed from the world; and that they published the result of 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


171 

their labours in such a form, as they thought would be most likely 
to excite the admiration of their readers. <f O quam bene foret,” 
says Petrus Nonius, “ si qui in scientiis mathematicis scripserint 
authores, scripta reliquissent inyenta sua eadem methodo, et per 
eosdem discursus, quibus ip si in ea primum inciderunt; et non, ut 
in mechanica loquitur Aristoteles de artificibus, qui nobis foris 
ostendunt suas quas fecerint machinas, sed artificium abscondunt, 
ut magis appareant admirabiles. Est utique inventio in arte qua- 
libet diversa multum a traditione : neque putandum est plurimas 
Euclidis et Archimedis propositiones fuisse ab illis ea via inventas 
qua nobis illi ipsas tradiderunt.” * The revival of the ancient 
analysis, by some late mathematicians in this country, has, in part, 
justified these remarks, by showing to how great a degree the 
inventive powers of the Greek geometers were aided by that method 
of investigation; and by exhibiting some striking specimens of 
address in the practical application of it. 

The solution of problems, indeed, it may be said, is but one mode 
in which mathematical invention may be displayed. The discovery 
of new truths is what we chiefly admire in an original genius; and 
the method of analysis gives us no satisfaction with respect to the 
process by which they are obtained. 

To remove this difficulty completely, by explaining all the various 
ways in which new theorems may be brought to light, would lead 
to inquiries foreign to this work. In order, however, to render 
the process of the mind, on such occasions, a little less mysterious 
than it is commonly supposed to be ; it may be proper to remark, 
that the most copious source of discoveries is the investigation of 
problems ; which seldom fails (even although we should not succeed 
in the attainment of the object which we have in view) to exhibit 
to us some relations formerly unobserved among the quantities 
which are under consideration. Of so great importance is it to 
concentrate the attention to a particular subject, and to check that 
wandering and dissipated habit of thought, which, in the case of 
most persons, renders their speculations barren of any profit either 
to themselves or to others. Many theorems, too, have been sug¬ 
gested by analogy; many have been investigated from truths for¬ 
merly known by altering or by generalising the hypothesis; and 
many have been obtained by a species of induction. An illustration 
of these various processes of the mind would not only lead to new 
and curious remarks, but would contribute to diminish that blind 

* “ How desirable it were if those authors who have written concerning mathema¬ 
tics, had left their discoveries in the same method, and according to the same train 
of reasoning by which they arrived at them, and not like those artificers whom Aris¬ 
totle mentions in mechanics, who exhibit publicly the engines which they construct, but 
conceal their contrivances, that they may appear more wonderful. For invention in 
any art, is very different from communication ; nor is it to be supposed that most of 
the propositions of Euclid and Archimedes were invented in the same order in which 
they have communicated them to us.”—See some other passages to the same purpose, 
quoted from different writers, by Dr. Sirnson, in the preface to his Restoration of the 
Loci Plani of Appollonius Pergteus, Glasg. 1749. 


172 


PART 


CHAP. V. 


admiration of original genius, which is one of the chief obstacles to 
the improvement of science. 

3. [The history of natural philosophy, before and after the 
time of Lord Bacon, affords another proof, how much the powers of 
invention and discovery may be assisted by the study of method: 
and in all the sciences, without exception, whoever employs his 
genius with a regular and habitual success, plainly shows, that it is 
by means of general rules that his inquiries are conducted.] Of 
these rules, there may be many which the inventor never stated to 
himself in words; and perhaps he may even be unconscious of the 
assistance which he derives from them ; but their influence on his 
genius appears unquestionably, from the uniformity with which it 
proceeds; and in proportion as they can be ascertained by his own 
speculations, or collected by the logician from an examination of 
his researches, similar powers of invention will be placed within 
the reach of other men, who apply themselves to the same study. 

The following remarks, which a truly philosophical artist has 
applied to painting, may be extended, with some trifling altera¬ 
tions, to all the different employments of our intellectual powers : 

“ What we now call genius, begins, not where rules, abstractedly 
taken, end; but where known, vulgar, and trite rules have no 
longer any place. It must of necessity be, that works of genius, as 
well as every other effect, as it must have its cause, must likewise 
have its rules; it cannot be by chance, that excellences are produced 
with any constancy, or any certainty, for this is not the nature of 
chance; but the rules by which men of extraordinary parts, and 
such as are called men of genius, work, are either such as they 
discover by their own peculiar observation, or of such a nice texture 
as not easily to admit handling or expressing in words. 

“ Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may seem, and difficult 
as it may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen and felt 
in the mind of the artist; and he works from them with as much 
certainty, as if they were embodied, as I may say, upon paper. It 
is true, these refined principles cannot be always made palpable, 
like the more gross rules of art; yet it does not follow, but that the 
mind may be put in such a train, that it shall perceive, by a kind 
of scientific sense, that propriety which words can but very feebly 
suggest.”—(Discourses by Sir Joshua Reynolds.) 

V. Application of the principles stated in the foregoing sections oj 
this chapter , to explain the Phenomena of Dreaming. —[With respect 
to the phenomena of dreaming, three different questions may be 
proposed. First, What is the state of the mind in sleep? or, in 
other words, what faculties then continue to operate, and what 
faculties are then suspended ? Secondly, How far do our dreams 
appear to be influenced by our bodily sensations: and in what 
respects do they vary, according to the different conditions of the 
body in health, and in sickness ? Thirdly, What is the change 
which sleep produces on those parts of the bodg, with which our 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


ITS 

mental operations are more immediately connected; «and how does 
this change operate, in diversifying so remarkably the phenomena 
which our minds then exhibit, from those of which we are conscious 
in our waking hours ?] Of these three questions, the first belongs 
to the philosophy of the human mind ; and it is to this question 
that the following inquiry is almost entirely confined. The second 
is more particularly interesting to the medical inquirer, and does 
not properly fall under the plan of this work. The third seems to 
me to relate to a subject, which is placed beyond the reach of the 
human faculties. 

It will be granted, that, if we could ascertain the state of the 
mind in sleep, so as to be able to resolve the various phenomena 
of dreaming into a smaller number of general principles; and still 
more, if we could resolve them into one general fact, we should be 
advanced a very important step in our inquiries upon this subject; 
even although we should find it impossible to show, in what manner 
this change in the state of the mind results from the change which 
sleep produces in the state of the body. Such a step would at least 
gratify, to a certain extent, that disposition of our nature which 
prompts us to ascend from particular facts to general laws; and 
which is the foundation of all our philosophical researches ; and, in 
the present instance, I am inclined to think, that it carries us as far 
as our imperfect faculties enable us to proceed. 

In conducting this inquiry with respect to the state of the mind 
in sleep, it seems reasonable to expect, that some light may be 
obtained from an examination of the circumstances which accelerate 
or retard its approach; for when we are disposed to rest, it is 
natural to imagine, that the state of the mind approaches to its 
state in sleep, more nearly, than when we feel ourselves alive and 
active, and capable of applying all our various faculties to their 
proper purposes. 

[In general, it may be remarked, that the approach of sleep is 
accelerated by every circumstance which diminishes or suspends 
the exercise of the mental powers; and is retarded by everything 
which has a contrary tendency. When we wish for sleep, we 
naturally endeavour to withhold, as much as possible, all the active 
exertions of the mind, by disengaging our attention from every 
interesting subject of thought. When we are disposed to keep 
awake, we naturally fix our attention on some subject which is 
calculated to afiord employment to our intellectual powers, or to 
rouse and exercise the active principles of our nature.] 

It is well known, that there is a particular class of sounds which 
compose us to sleep. The hum of bees; the murmur of a fountain; 
the reading of an uninteresting discourse, have this tendency in a 
remarkable degree. If we examine this class of sounds, we shall 
find that it consists wholly of such as are fitted to withdraw the 
attention of the mind from its own thoughts, and are, at the 
same time, not sufficiently interesting to engage its attention to 
themselves. 


PART 


CHAP. V. 


174 


It is also matter of common observation, that children and per¬ 
sons of little reflection, who are chiefly occupied about sensible 
objects, and whose mental activity is, in a great measure, sus¬ 
pended as soon as their perceptive powers are unemployed, find 
it extremely difficult to continue awake, when they are deprived of 
their usual engagements. The same thing has been remarked of 
savages, whose time, like that of the lower animals, is almost com¬ 
pletely divided between sleep and their bodily exertions.* 

QFrom a consideration of these facts, it seems reasonable to con¬ 
clude, that in sleep those operations of the mind are suspended , which 
depend on our volition; for, if it be certain, that before we fall 
asleep, we must withhold, as much as we are able, the exercise of 
all our different powers; it is scarcely to be imagined, that, as soon 
as sleep commences, these powers should again begin to be exerted.] 
The more probable conclusion is, that, when we are desirous to 
procure sleep, we bring both mind and body, as nearly as we can, 
into that state in which they are to continue after sleep commences. 
The difference, therefore, between the state of the mind when we 
are inviting sleep, and when we are actually asleep, is this, that in 
the former case, although its active exertions be suspended, we 
can renew them, if we please. In the other case, the will loses its 
influence over all our powers both of mind and body; in con¬ 
sequence of some physical alteration in the system, which we shall 
never, probably, be able to explain. 

In order to illustrate this conclusion a little farther, it may be 
proper to remark, that if the suspension of our voluntary opera¬ 
tions in sleep be admitted as a fact, there are only two suppositions 
which can be formed concerning its cause. The one is, that the 
power of volition is suspended; the other, that the will loses its 
influence over those faculties of the mind, and those members of 
the body, which, during our waking hours, are subjected to its 
authority. If it can be shown, then, that the former supposition 
is not agreeable to fact, the truth of the latter seems to follow as a 
necessary consequence. 

(1.) That the power of volition is not suspended during sleep, 
appears from the efforts which we are conscious of making while 
in that situation. We dream, for example, that we are in danger; 
and we attempt to call out for assistance. The attempt, indeed, is, 
in general, unsuccessful; and the sounds which we emit are feeble 
and indistinct; but this only confirms, or rather is a necessary con¬ 
sequence of, the supposition that, in sleep, the connexion between 
the will and our voluntary operations is disturbed or interrupted. 
The continuance of the power of volition is demonstrated by the 
effort, however ineffectual. 

In like manner, in the course of an alarming dream, we are 


* “ The existence of the negro slaves in America, appears to participate more of 
sensation than reflection. To this must be ascribed, their disposition to sleep when 
abstracted from their diversions, and unemployed in their labour. An animal whose 
body is at rest, and who does not reflect, must be disposed to sleep of course.’’—Notes 
on Virginia, by Mr. Jefferson, p. 225, 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


175 

sometimes conscious of making an exertion to save ourselves, by 
flight, from an apprehended danger; but in spite of all our efforts 
we continue in bed. In such cases, we commonly dream that we 
are attempting to escape, and are prevented by some external 
obstacle; but the fact seems to be, that the body is, at that time, 
not subject to the will. During the disturbed rest which we some¬ 
times have when the body is indisposed, the mind appears to retain 
some power over it; but as, even in these cases, the motions which 
are made consist rather of a general agitation of the whole system, 
than of the regular exertion of a particular member of it, with 
a view to produce a certain effect; it is reasonable to conclude, 
that in perfectly sound sleep, the mind, although it retains the 
power of volition, retains no influence whatever over the bodily 
organs. 

In that particular condition of the system, which is known by the 
name of incubus, we are conscious of a total want of power over 
the body; and, I believe, the common opinion is, that it is this 
want of power which distinguishes the incubus from all the other 
modifications of sleep. But the more probable supposition seems 
to be, that every species of sleep is accompanied with a suspension 
of the faculty of voluntary motion, and that the incubus has nothing 
peculiar in it but this, that the uneasy sensations which are pro¬ 
duced by the accidental posture of the body, arid which we find it 
impossible to remove by our own efforts, render us distinctly con¬ 
scious of our incapacity to move. One thing is certain, that the 
instant of our awaking, and of our recovering the command of our 
bodily organs, is one and the same. 

(2.) The same conclusion is confirmed by a different view of the 
subject. It is probable, as was already observed, that when we 
are anxious to procure sleep, the state into which we naturally 
bring the mind, approaches to its state after sleep commences. 
Now it is manifest, that the means which nature directs us to 
employ on such occasions, is not to suspend the power of volition , 
but to suspend the exertion of those powers whose exercise depends 
on volition. If it were necessary that volition should be suspended 
before we fall asleep, it would be impossible for us, by our own 
efforts, to hasten the moment of rest. The very supposition of such 
efforts is absurd: for it implies a continued will to suspend the acts 
of the will. 

According to the foregoing doctrine with respect to the state of 
the mind in sleep, the effect which is produced on our mental 
operations, is strikingly analogous to that which is produced on our 
bodily powers. From the observations which have been^already 
made, it is manifest that in sleep, the body is, in a very incon¬ 
siderable degree, if it all, subject to our command. The vital and 
involuntary motions, however, suffer no interruption, but go on as 
when we are awake, in consequence of the operation of some cause 
unknown to us. In like manner, it would appear, that those 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


176 


operations of the mind which depend on our volition are suspended; 
while certain other operations are, at least, occasionally carried on. 
This analogy naturally suggests the idea, that all our mental 
operations, which are independent of our will, may continue during 
sleep ; and that the phenomena of dreaming may, perhaps, be pro¬ 
duced by these, diversified in their apparent effects, in consequence 
of the suspension of our voluntary powers. 

If the appearances which the mind exhibits during sleep are 
found to be explicable on this general principle, it will possess all 
the evidence which the nature of the subject admits of. 

It was formerly shown, that the train of thought in the mind 
does not depend immediately on our will, but is regulated by certain 
general laws of association. At the same time, it appeared, that 
among the various subjects which thus spontaneously present them¬ 
selves to our notice, we have the power of singling out any one 
that we choose to consider, and of making it a particular object of 
attention ; and that by doing so, we not only can stop the train that 
would otherwise have succeeded, but frequently can divert the 
current of our thoughts into a new channel. It also appeared, that 
we have a power (which may be much improved by exercise) of 
recalling past occurrences to the memory, by a voluntary effort of 
recollection. 

The indirect influence which the mind thus possesses over the 
train of its thoughts is so great, that during the whole time we are 
awake, excepting in those cases in which we fall into what is called 
a reverie, and suffer our thoughts to follow their natural course, 
the order of their succession is always regulated more or less by 
the will. The will, indeed, in regulating the train of thought, can 
operate only (as I have already shown) by availing itself of the 
established laws of association: but still it has the power of rendering 
this train very different from what it would have been, if these 
laws had taken place without its interference. 

[From these principles, combined with the general fact which I 
have endeavoured to establish, with respect to the state of the 
mind in sleep, two obvious consequences follow: First, That when 
we are in this situation, the succession of our thoughts, in so far as 
it depends on the laws of association, may be carried on by the 
operation of the same unknown causes by which it is produced 
while we are awake; and. Secondly , that the order of our thoughts, 
in these two states of the mind, must be very different; inasmuch 
as, in the one, it depends solely on the laics of association, and in the 
other, on these laws combined with our own voluntary exertions .] 

In order to ascertain how far these conclusions are agreeable to 
truth, it is necessary to compare them with the known phenomena 
of dreaming. For which purpose, I shall endeavour to show, first, 
that the succession of our thoughts in sleep, is regulated by the 
same general laws of association, to which it is subjected while we 
are awake; and, secondly, that the circumstances which discrimi- 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 177 

nate dreaming from our waking thoughts, are such as much neces¬ 
sarily arise from the suspension of the influence of the will. 

First. That the succession of our thoughts in sleep, is regulated 
by the same general laws of association which influence the mind 
while we are awake, appears from the following considerations. 

(1.) Our dreams are frequently suggested to us by bodily sensations ; 
and with these it is well known, from what we experience while 
awake, that particular ideas are frequently very strongly associated. 
I have been told by a friend, that having occasion, in consequence 
of an indisposition, to apply a bottle of hot water to his feet when 
he went to bed, he dreamed that he was making a journey to the 
top of Mount JEtna, and that he found the heat of the ground almost 
insupportable. Another person, having a blister applied to his 
head, dreamed that he was scalped by a party of Indians. I believe 
every one who is in the habit of dreaming, will recollect instances, 
in his own case, of a similar nature. 

(2.) Our dreams are influenced by the 'prevailing temper of the mind; 
and vary, in their complexion, according as our habitual disposition, 
at the time, inclines us to cheerfulness or to melancholy. Not that 
this observation holds without exception; but it holds so generally, 
as must convince us, that the state of our spirits has some effect on 
our dreams, as well as on our waking thoughts. Indeed, in the 
latter case, no less than in the former, this effect may be counter¬ 
acted, or modified by various other circumstances. 

After having made a narrow escape from any alarming danger, 
we are apt to awake, in the course of our sleep, with sudden start¬ 
ings ; imagining that we are drowning, or on the brink of a pre¬ 
cipice. A severe misfortune, which has affected the mind deeply, 
influences our dreams in a similar way ; and suggests to us a variety 
of adventures, analogous, in some measure, to that event from which 
our distress arises. Such, according to Virgil, were the dreams of 
the forsaken Dido. 

“ -Agit ipse furentem, 

In somnisferus iEneas ; semperque relinqui, 

Sola 8ibi; semper longam incomitata videtur 
Ire viam, et Tyrios desertd quserere terra.” * 

(3.) Our dreams are influenced by our prevailing habits of association 
while awake. 

In a former part of this work, I considered the extent of that 
power which the mind may acquire over the train of its thoughts; 
and I observed, that those intellectual diversities among men, which 
we commonly refer to peculiarities of genius, are, at least in a great 

* “ Now stern yEneas her eternal theme, 

Haunts her distracted soul in every dream ; 

In slumber now she seems to travel on, 

Through dreary wilds abandoned and alone, 

And treads a dark uncomfortable plain, 

And seeks her Tyrians o’er the waste in vain.” 

Pitt’s iEneid, iv. 1. 675. 

N 



178 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


measure, resolvable into differences in their habits of association. 
One man possesses a rich and beautiful fancy, which is at all times 
obedient to his will. Another possesses a quickness of recollection, 
which enables him, at a moment’s warning, to bring together all the 
results of his past experience, and of his past reflections, which can 
be of use for illustrating any proposed subject. A third can, with¬ 
out effort, collect his attention to the most abstract questions in 
philosophy; can perceive, at a glance, the shortest and the most 
effectual process for arriving at the truth; and can banish from his 
mind every extraneous idea, which fancy or casual association may 
suggest, to distract his thoughts, or to mislead his judgment. A 
fourth unites all these powers in a capacity of perceiving truth with 
an almost intuitive rapidity; and, in an eloquence which enables 
him to command, at pleasure, whatever his memory and his fancy 
can supply, to illustrate and to adorn it. The occasional exercise 
which such men make of their powers, may undoubtedly be said, 
in one sense, to be unpremeditated or unstudied; but they all 
indicate previous habits of meditation or study, as unquestionably, 
as the dexterity of the expert accountant, or the rapid execution of 
the professional musician. 

From what has been said, it is evident, that a train of thought 
which, in one man, would require a painful effort of study, may, in 
another, be almost spontaneous: nor is it to be doubted, that the 
reveries of studious men, even when they allow, as much as they 
can, their thoughts to follow their own course, are more or less 
connected together by those principles of association, which their 
favourite pursuits tend more particularly to strengthen. 

The influence of the same habits may be traced distinctly in 
sleep. There are probably few mathematicians, who have not 
dreamed of an interesting problem, and who have not even fancied 
that they were prosecuting the investigation of it with much suc¬ 
cess. They whose ambition leads them to the study of eloquence, 
are frequently conscious, during sleep, of a renewal of their daily 
occupations; and sometimes feel themselves possessed of a fluency 
of speech, which they never experienced before. The poet, in 
his dreams, is transported into Elysium, and leaves the vulgar and 
unsatisfactory enjoyments of humanity, to dwell in those regions of 
enchantment and rapture, which have been created by the divine 
imaginations of Virgil and of Tasso. 

<( And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, 

Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace ; 

O’er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, ^ 

That play’d, in waving lights from place to place, 

And shed a roseate smile on Nature’s face. 

Not Titian’s pencil e’er could so array. 

So fleece w T ith clouds the pure etherial space ; 

Ne could it e’er such melting forms display, 

As loose on flowery beds all languishingiy lay. 

No, fair illusions! artful phantoms, no ! 

My muse will not attempt your fairy land : 

She has no colours, that like yours can glow ; 

To catch your vivid scenes, too gross her hand.”— Castle of Indolence. 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


179 

As a farther proof that the succession of our thoughts in dream¬ 
ing, is influenced by our prevailing habits of association, it may be 
remarked, that the scenes and occurrences which most frequently 
present themselves to the mind while we are asleep, are the scenes 
and occurrences of childhood and early youth. The facility of 
association is then much greater than in more advanced years; and 
although, during the day, the memory of the events thus associated, 
may be banished by the objects and pursuits which press upon our 
senses, it retains a more permanent hold of the mind than any of 
our subsequent acquisitions : and, like the knowledge which we 
possess of our mother tongue, is, as it were, interwoven and incor¬ 
porated with all its most essential habits. Accordingly, in old men, 
whose thoughts are, in a great measure, disengaged from the world, 
the transactions of their middle age, which once seemed so import¬ 
ant, are often obliterated; while the mind dwells, as in a dream, on 
the sports and the companions of their infancy. 

I shall only observe farther, on this head, that in our dreams, as 
well as when awake, we occasionally make use of words as an 
instrument of thought. Such dreams, however, do not affect the 
mind with such emotions of pleasure and of pain, as those in which 
the imagination is occupied with particular objects of sense. The 
effect of philosophical studies, in habituating the mind to the almost 
constant employment of this instrument, and, of consequence, its 
effect in weakening the imagination, was formerly remarked. If 
I am not mistaken, the influence of these circumstances may also 
be traced in the history of our dreams; which in youth commonly 
involve, in a much greater degree, the exercise of imagination, 
and affect the mind with much more powerful emotions, than when 
we begin to employ our maturer faculties in more general and 
abstract speculations. 

Secondly. From these different observations, we are authorized to 
conclude, that the same laws of association which regulate the train 
of our thoughts while we are awake, continue to operate during 
sleep. I now proceed to consider, how far the circumstances which 
discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts, correspond with 
those which might be expected to result from the suspension of the 
influence of the will. 

(1.) If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, all our 
voluntary operations , such as recollection, reasoning, &c. must also 
be suspended. 

That this really is the case, the extravagance and inconsistency 
of our dreams are sufficient proofs. We frequently confound 
together times and places the most remote from each other; and, 
in the course of the same dream, conceive the same person as exist¬ 
ing in different parts of the world. Sometimes we imagine our¬ 
selves conversing with a dead friend, without remembering the 
circumstance of his death, although, perhaps, it happened but a few 
days before, and affected us deeply. All this proves clearly, that 


180 


PART I. 


CHAP. V. 


the subjects which then occupy our thoughts are such as present 
themselves to the mind spontaneously; and that we have no 
power of employing our reason in comparing together the different 
parts of our dreams ; or even of exerting an act of recollection in 
order to ascertain how far they are consistent and possible. 

The processes of reasoning in which we sometimes fancy our¬ 
selves to be engaged during sleep, furnish no exception to the fore¬ 
going observation; for, although every such process, the first time 
we form it, implies volition ; and, in particular, implies a recollec¬ 
tion of the premises, till we arrive at the conclusion; yet, when a 
number of truths have been often presented to us as necessarily 
connected with each other, this series may afterwards pass through 
the mind, according to the laws of association, without any more 
activity on our part, than in those trains of thought which are the 
most loose and incoherent. Nor is this mere theory. I may venture 
to appeal to the consciousness of every man accustomed to dream, 
whether his reasonings during sleep do not seem to be carried on 
without any exertion of his will; and with a degree of facility of 
which he was never conscious while awake. Mr. Addison, in one 
of his Spectators, has made this observation; and his testimony, in 
the present instance, is of the greater weight, that he had no par¬ 
ticular theory on the subject to support. “ There is not,” says he, 
“ a more painful action of the mind than invention, yet in dreams 
it works with that ease and activity, that we are not sensible when 
the faculty is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some 
time or otfyer, dreams that he is reading papers, books, or letters ; 
in which case the invention prompts so readily, that the mind is 
imposed on, and mistakes its own suggestions for the composition 
of another.” (No. 487.) 

(2.) If the influence of the will during sleep be suspended, the 
mind will remain as passive , while its thoughts change from one sub¬ 
ject to another, as it does during our waking hours, while different 
perceptible objects are presented to our senses. 

Of this passive state of the mind in our dreams it is unnecessary 
to multiply proofs; as it has always been considered as one of the 
most extraordinary circumstances with which they are accompanied. 
If our dreams, as well as our Wtiking thoughts, were subject to the 
will, is it not natural to conclude, that in the one case, as well as 
in the other, we would endeavour to banish, as much as we could, 
every idea which had a tendency to disturb us; and detain those 
only which we found to be agreeable ? So far, however, is this 
power over our thoughts from being exercised, that we are fre¬ 
quently oppressed, in spite of all our efforts to the contrary, with 
dreams which affect us with the most painful emotions. And 
indeed, it is matter of vulgar remark, that our dreams are, in every 
case, involuntary on our part; and that they appear to be obtruded 
on us by some external cause. This fact appeared so unaccountable 
to the late Mr. Baxter, that it gave rise to his very whimsical theory, 


OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


181 

in which he ascribes dreams to the immediate influence of separate 
spirits on the mind. 

(3.) If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, the 
conceptions which we then form of sensible objects will be attended with 
a belief of their real existence , as much as the perception of the same 
objects is while we are awake. 

In treating of the power of conception, I formerly observed, that 
our belief of the separate and independent existence of the objects 
of our perceptions, is the result of experience; which teaches us 
that these perceptions do not depend on our will. If I open my 
eyes, I cannot prevent myself from seeing the prospect before me. 
The case is different with respect to our conceptions. While they 
occupy the mind, to the exclusion of every thing else, I endeavoured 
to show, that they are always accompanied with belief: but as we 
can banish them from the mind, during our waking hours, at plea¬ 
sure; and as the momentary belief which they produce, is continually 
checked by the surrounding objects of our perceptions, we learn to 
consider them as fictions of our own creation; and, excepting in 
some accidental cases, pay no regard to them in the conduct of life. 
If the doctrine, however, formerly stated with respect to conception 
be just, and if, at the same time, it be allowed that sleep suspends 
the influence of the will over the train of our thoughts, we should 
naturally be led to expect, that the same belief which accompanies 
perception while we are awake, should accompany the conceptions 
which occur to us in our dreams. It is scarcely necessary for me 
to remark, how strikingly this conclusion coincides with acknow¬ 
ledged facts. 

May it not be considered as some confirmation of the foregoing 
doctrine, that when opium fails in producing complete sleep, it 
commonly produces one of the effects of sleep, by suspending the 
activity of the mind, and throwing it into a reverie ; and that while 
we are in this state, our conceptions frequently affect us nearly in 
the same manner, as if the objects conceived were present to our 
senses ?—(See the Baron de Tott’s Account of the Opium-takers at 
Constantinople.) 

Another circumstance with respect to our conceptions during 
sleep, deserves our notice. As the subjects which we then think 
upon occupy the mind exclusively, and as the attention is not 
diverted by the objects of our external senses, our conceptions must 
be proportionably lively and steady. Every person knows how 
faint the conception is which we form of any thing, with our eyes 
open, in comparison of what we can form with our eyes shut: and 
that in proportion as we can suspend the exercise of all our other 
senses, the liveliness of our conception increases. To this cause is 
to be ascribed, in part, the effect which the dread of spirits in the 
dark has on some persons, who are fully convinced, in speculation, 
that their apprehensions are groundless ; and to this also is owing, 
the effect of any accidental perception in giving them a momentaiy 


]82 


PART I. 


CHAP. Y. 


relief from their terrors. Hence the remedy which nature points 
out to us, when we find ourselves overpowered by imagination. 
If every thing around us be silent, we endeavour to create a noise 
by speaking aloud, or beating with our feet; that is, we strive to 
divert the attention from the subjects of our imagination, by pre¬ 
senting an object to our powers of perception. The conclusion 
which I draw from these observations is, that as there is no state 
of the body in which our perceptive powers are so totally unem¬ 
ployed as in sleep, it is natural to think that the objects which we 
conceive or imagine, must then make an impression on the mind 
beyond comparison greater than anything of which we can have 
experience while awake. 

From these principles may be derived a simple, and, I think, a 
satisfactory explanation of what some writers have represented as 
the most mysterious of all the circumstances connected with dream¬ 
ing ; the inaccurate estimates we are apt to form of time, while we 
are thus employed;—an inaccuracy which sometimes extends so 
far, as to give to a single instant the appearance of hours, or perhaps 
of days. A sudden noise, for example, suggests a dream connected 
with that perception; and, the moment afterwards, this noise has 
the effect of awaking us; and yet, during that momentary interval, 
a long series of circumstances has passed before the imagination. 
The story quoted by Mr. Addison (Spectator, No. 94,) from the 
Turkish Tales, of the miracle wrought by a Mahometan doctor, to 
convince an infidel sultan, is, in such cases, nearly verified. 

The facts I allude to at present are generally explained by sup¬ 
posing that, in our dreams, the rapidity of thought is greater than 
while we are awake :—but there is no necessity for having recourse 
to such a supposition. The rapidity of thought is, at all times, such 
that in the twinkling of an eye a crowd of ideas may pass before us, 
to which it would require a long discourse to give utterance ; and 
transactions may be conceived, which it would require days to 
realize. But, in sleep, the conceptions of the mind are mistaken 
for realities; and therefore our estimates of time will be formed, 
not according to our experience of the rapidity of thought, but 
according to our experience of the time requisite for realizing 
what we conceive. Something perfectly analogous to this may be 
remarked in the perceptions we obtain by the sense of sight. 

When I look into a show-box, where the deception is imper¬ 
fect, I see only a set of paltry daubings of a few inches diameter ; 
but, if the representation be executed with so much skill, as to 
convey to me the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me 
swells in its dimensions, in proportion to the extent of space which 
I conceive it to occupy; and what seemed before to be shut up 
within the limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified, in my 
apprehension, to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and 
mountains. 

The phenomena which we have hitherto explained, take place 


OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


183 


when sleep seems to be complete ; that is, when the mind loses its 
influence over all those powers whose exercise depends on its will. 
There are, however, many cases in which sleep seems to be partial; 
that is, when the mind loses its influence over some powers, and 
retains it over others. In the case of the somnambuli , it retains its 
power over the limbs, but it possesses no influence over its own 
thoughts, and scarcely any over the body; excepting those parti¬ 
cular members of it which are employed in walking. In madness, 
the power of the will over the body remains undiminished, while its 
influence in regulating the train of thought is in a great measure 
suspended; either (1) in consequence of a particular idea , which en¬ 
grosses the attention, to the exclusion of everything else, and which ** 
we find it impossible to banish by our efforts ; or (2) in consequenc 
of our thoughts succeeding each other with such rapidity , that we are 
unable to stop the train. In both of these kinds of madness, it is 
worthy of remark that, the conceptions or imaginations of the mind 
becoming independent of our will, they are apt to be mistaken for 
actual perceptions, and to affect us in the same manner. 

By means of this supposition of a partial sleep, any apparent 
exceptions which the history of dreams may afford to the general 
principles already stated, admit of t an easy explanation. 

Upon reviewing the foregoing observations, it does not occur to 
me that I have in any instance transgressed those rules of philoso¬ 
phizing which, since the time of Newton, are commonly appealed 
to, as the tests of sound investigation. Bor, in the first place, I 
have not supposed any causes which are not known to exist; and 
secondly, I have shown, that the phenomena under our consideration 
are necessary consequences of the causes to which I have referred 
them. I have not supposed that the mind acquires in sleep any 
new faculty of which we are not conscious while awake : but only 
(what we know to be a fact) that it retains some of its powers, while 
the exercise of others.is suspended ; and I have deduced syntheti¬ 
cally the known phenomena of dreaming, from the operation of a 
particular class of our faculties, uncorrected by the operation of 
another. I flatter myself, therefore, that this inquiry will not only 
throw some light on the state of the mind in sleep ; but that it will 
have a tendency to illustrate the mutual adaptation and subser¬ 
viency which exists among the different parts of our constitution, 
when we are in complete possession of all the faculties and prin¬ 
ciples which belong to our nature. (See note o.) 


184 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 


SECONDLY; OF THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON THE 
INTELLECTUAL AND ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. 

I. Of the Influence of Casual Associations on our Speculative Con¬ 
clusions. —The association of ideas has a tendency to warp our 
speculative opinions chiefly in the three following ways:— 

First , By blending together in our apprehensions things which 
are really distinct in their nature; so as to introduce perplexity and 
error into every process of reasoning in which they are involved. 

Secondly, By misleading us in those anticipations of the future 
from the past, which our constitution disposes us to form, and 
which are the great foundation of our conduct in life. 

Thirdly , By connecting in the mind erroneous opinions with 
truths which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel to 
be of importance to human happiness. 

A short illustration of these remarks will throw light on the origin 
of various prejudices; and may, perhaps, suggest some practical 
hints with respect to the conduct of the understanding. 

(1.) I formerly had occasion to mention several instances of very 
intimate associations formed between two ideas which have no 
necessary connexion with each other. One of the most remark¬ 
able is, that which exists in every person’s mind betwe’en the 
notions of colour and of extension. The former of these words 
expresses (at least in the sense in which we commonly employ it) 
a sensation in the mind; the latter denotes a quality of an external 
object; so that there is, in fact, no more connexion between the 
two notions than between those of pain and of solidity; (see note 
p .;) and yet, in consequence of our always perceiving extension, at 
the same time at which the sensation of colour is excited in the 
mind, we find it impossible to think of that sensation, without 
conceiving extension along with it. % 

Another intimate association is formed in every mind between 
the ideas of space and of time. When we think of an interval of 
duration, we always conceive it as something analogous to a line, 
and we apply the same language to both subjects. We speak of a 
long and short time , as well as of a long and short distance ; and we 
are not conscious of any metaphor in doing so. Nay, so very perfect 
does the analogy appear to us, that Boscovich mentions it as a 
curious circumstance, that extension should have three dimensions, 
and duration only one. 

This apprehended analogy seems to be founded wholly on an 
association between the ideas of space and of time, arising from our 
always measuring the one of these quantities by the other. We 



OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


185 


measure time by motion, and motion by extension. In an hour, the 
hand of the clock moves over a certain space; in two hours over 
double the space ; and so on. Hence the ideas of space and of time 
become very intimately united, and we apply to the latter the words 
long and short, before and after, in the same manner as to the former. 

[The apprehended analogy between the relation which the differ¬ 
ent notes in the scale of music bear to each other, and the relation 
of superiority and inferiority, in respect of position, among material 
objects, arises also from an accidental association of ideas. 

What this association is founded upon, I shall not take upon me 
to determine; but that it is the effect of accident , appears clearly 
from this, that it has not only been confined to particular ages and 
nations, but is the very reverse of an association which was once 
equally prevalent.] It is observed by Dr. Gregory, in the preface 
to his edition of Euclid’s works, that the more ancient of the Greek 
writers looked upon grave sounds as high, and acute ones as low; 
and that the present mode of expression on that subject was an 
innovation introduced at a later period. (See note q.) 

In the instances which have now been mentioned, our habits of 
combining the notions of two things become so strong, that we find 
it impossible to think of the one, without thinking at the same time 
of the other. Various other examples of the same species of com¬ 
bination, although, perhaps, not altogether so striking in degree, 
might easily be collected from the subjects about which our meta¬ 
physical speculations are employed. The sensations, for instance, 
which are excited in the mind by external objects, and the percep¬ 
tions of material qualities which follow these sensations, are to be 
distinguished from each other only by long habits of patient reflec¬ 
tion. A clear conception of this distinction may be regarded as the 
key to all Dr. Reid’s reasonings concerning the process of nature 
in perception; and, till it has once been rendered familiar to the 
reader, a great part of his writings must appear unsatisfactory and 
obscure.—In truth, our progress in the philosophy of the human 
mind depends much more on that severe and discriminating judg¬ 
ment, which enables us to separate ideas which nature or habit have 
immediately combined, than on acuteness of reasoning or fertility 
of invention. And hence it is, that metaphysical studies are the 
best of all preparations for those philosophical pursuits which relate 
to the conduct of life. In none of these do we meet with casual 
combinations so intimate and indissoluble as those which occur in 
metaphysics and he who has been accustomed to such disciimina- 
tions as this science requires, will not easily be imposed on by that 
confusion of ideas which warps the judgments of the multitude in 
moral, religious, and political inquiries. 

From the facts which have now been stated, it is easy to conceive 
the manner in which the association of ideas has a tendency to mis¬ 
lead the judgment, in the first of the three cases already enumerated. 
When two subjects of thought are so intimately connected together 


186 


PART 


CHAP. VI. 


in the mind, that we find it scarcely possible to consider them apart, 
it must require no common efforts of attention, to conduct any pro¬ 
cess of reasoning which relates to either. I formerly took notice of 
the errors to which we are exposed in consequence of the ambiguity 
of words , and of the necessity of frequently checking and correcting 
our general reasonings by means of particular examples; but in the 
cases to which I allude at present, there is (if I may use the expres¬ 
sion) an ambiguity of things ; so that even when the mind is occu¬ 
pied about particulars, it finds it difficult to separate the proper 
objects of its attention from others with which it has been long 
accustomed to blend them. The cases, indeed, in which such 
obstinate and invincible associations are formed among different 
subjects of thought, are not very numerous, and occur chiefly in our 
metaphysical researches; but in every mind, casual combinations 
of an inferior degree of strength, have an habitual effect in disturb¬ 
ing the intellectual powers,-and are not to be conquered without 
persevering exertions, of which few men are capable. The obvious 
effects which this tendency to combination produces on the judg¬ 
ment, in confounding together those ideas which it is the province 
of the metaphysician to distinguish, sufficiently illustrate the mode 
of its operation in those numerous instances in which its influence, 
though not so complete and striking, is equally real, and far more 
dangerous. 

(2.) The association of ideas is a source of speculative error, by 
misleading us in those anticipations of the future from the past, which 
are the foundation of our conduct in life. 

The great object of philosophy, as I have already remarked more 
than once, is to ascertain the laws which regulate the succession of 
events, both in the physical and moral worlds; in order that, when 
called upon to act in any particular combination of circumstances, 
we may be enabled to anticipate the probable course of nature from 
our past experience, and to regulate our conduct accordingly. 

As a knowledge of the established connexions among events, is 
the foundation of sagacity and of skill, both in the practical arts 
and in the conduct of life, nature has not only given to all men a 
strong disposition to remark, with attention and curiosity, those 
phenomena which have been observed to happen nearly at the same 
time; but has beautifully adapted to the uniformity of her own 
operations, the laws of association in the human mind. By render¬ 
ing contiguity in time one of the strongest of our associating prin¬ 
ciples, she has conjoined together in our thoughts the same events 
which we have found conjoined in our experience, and has thus 
accommodated (without any effort on our part) the order of our 
ideas to that scene in which we are destined to act. 

The degree of experience which is necessary for the preservation 
of our animal existence, is acquired by all men without any par¬ 
ticular efforts of study. The laws of nature, which it is most 
material for us to know, are exposed to the immediate observation 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


187 

of our senses; and establish, by means of the principle of associa¬ 
tion, a corresponding order in our thoughts, long before the dawn 
of reason and reflection ; or at least long before that period of child¬ 
hood, to which our recollection afterwards extends. 

This tendency of the mind to associate together events which 
have been presented to it nearly at the same time; although, on 
the whole, it is attended with infinite advantages, yet, like many 
other principles of our nature, may occasionally be a source of 
inconvenience, unless we avail ourselves of our reason and of our 
experience in keeping it under proper regulation. Among the 
various phenomena which are continually passing before us, there 
is a great proportion, whose vicinity in time does not indicate a 
constancy of conjunction; and unless we be careful to make the 
distinction between these two classes of connexions, the order of 
our ideas will be apt to correspond with the one as well as with 
the other; and our unenlightened experience of the past, will fill 
the mind, in numberless instances, with vain expectations, or with 
groundless alarms, concerning the future. This disposition to con¬ 
found together accidental and permanent connexions, is one great 
source of popular superstitions. Hence the regard which is paid 
to unlucky days; to unlucky colours ; and to the influence of the 
planets ; apprehensions, which render human life, to many, a con¬ 
tinued series of absurd terrors. Lucretius compares them to those 
which children feel,from an idea of the existence of spirits in the dark. 

“ Ac veluti pueri trepidant, atque omnia caecis 
In tenebris metuunt, sic nos in luce timemus, 

Interdum nihilo quae sunt metuenda magis.” * 

Such spectres can be dispelled by the light of philosophy only; 
which, by accustoming us to trace established connexions, teaches 
us to despise those which are casual; and, by giving a proper 
direction to that bias of the mind which is the foundation of super¬ 
stition, prevents it from leading us astray. 

[In the instances which we have now been considering, events 
come to be combined together in the mind, merely from the acci¬ 
dental circumstance of their contiguity in time, at the moment when 
we perceived them. Such combinations are confined, in a great 
measure, to uncultivated and unenlightened minds; or to those 
individuals who, from nature or education, have a more than ordin¬ 
ary facility of association. But there are other accidental combina¬ 
tions, which are apt to lay hold of the most vigorous understandings; 
and from which, as they are the natural and necessary result of a 
limited experience, no superiority of intellect is sufficient to pre¬ 
serve a philosopher, in the infancy of physical science.] 

* u For as the boy, when midnight veils the skies, 

Trembles and starts at all things, so full oft. 

E’en in the noon, men start at forms as void 
Of real danger, as the phantoms false 
By darkness conjured.” 

Lucretius, book ii. 1. 52, by Goon. 


188 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


As the connexions among physical events are discovered to us by 
experience alone, it is evident, that when we see a phenomenon 
preceded by a number of different circumstances, it is impossible 
for us to determine, by any reasoning a priori , which of these 
circumstances are to be regarded as the constant , and which as the 
accidental , antecedents of the effect. If, in the course of our 
experience, the same combination of circumstances is always 
exhibited to us without any alteration, and is invariably followed by 
the same result, we must for ever remain ignorant whether this 
result be connected with the whole combination, or with one or 
more of the circumstances combined; and therefore, if we are 
anxious, upon any occasion, to produce a similar effect, the only 
rule that we can follow with perfect security, is to imitate in every 
particular circumstance the combination which we have seen. It 
is only where we have an opportunity of separating such circum¬ 
stances from each other; of combining them variously together; 
and of observing the effects which result from these different 
experiments, that we can ascertain with precision the general laws 
of nature, and strip physical causes of their accidental and unessen¬ 
tial concomitants. 

To illustrate this by an example. &1T Let us suppose that a 
savage, who, in a particular instance, had found himself relieved of 
some bodily indisposition by a draught of cold water, is a second 
time afflicted with a similar disorder, and is desirous to repeat the 
same remedy. With a limited degree of experience which we have 
here supposed him to possess, it would be impossible for the acutest 
philosopher, in his situation, to determine, whether the cure was 
owing to the water which was drunk, to the cup in which it was 
contained, to the fountain from which it was taken, to the particular 
day of the month, or to the particular age of the moon. In order, 
therefore, to ensure the success of the remedy, he will very naturally, 
and very wisely, copy, as far as he can recollect, every circumstance 
which accompanied the first application of it. He will make use of 
the same cup, draw the water from the same fountain, hold his 
body in the same posture, and turn his face in the same direction; 
and thus all the accidental circumstances in which the first experi¬ 
ment was made, will come to be associated equally in his mind 
with the effect produced. The fountain from which the water was 
drawn, will be considered as possessed of particular virtues ; and 
the cup from which it was drunk, will be set apart from vulgar 
uses, for the sake of those who may afterwards have occasion 
to apply the remedy. It is the enlargement of experience alone, 
and not any progress in the art of reasoning, which can cure the 
mind of these associations, and free the practice of medicine from 
those superstitious observances with which we always find it encum¬ 
bered among rude nations. 

Many instances of this species of superstition might be produced 
from the works of philosophers who have flourished in more 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


189 


enlightened ages. In particular, many might be produced from 
the writings of those physical inquirers who immediately succeeded 
to Lord Bacon ; and who, convinced by his arguments, of the folly 
of all reasonings a priori, concerning the laws of nature, were fre¬ 
quently apt to run into the opposite extreme, by recording every 
circumstance, even the most ludicrous, and the most obviously 
inessential, which attended their experiments.* 

The observations which have been hitherto made, relate entirely 
to associations founded on casual combinations of material objects 
or of physical events. The effects which these associations produce 
on the understanding, and which are so palpable, that they cannot 
fail to strike the most careless observer, will prepare the reader for 
the remarks I am now to make on some analogous prejudices which 
warp our opinions on still more important subjects. 

As the established laws of the material world, which have been 
exhibited to our senses from our infancy, gradually accommodate 
to themselves the order of our thoughts; so the most arbitrary and 
capricious institutions and customs, by a long and constant and 
exclusive operation on the mind, acquire such an influence in 
forming the intellectual habits, that every deviation from them not 
only produces surprise, but is apt to excite sentiments of contempt 
and of ridicule. A person who has never extended his views 
beyond that society of which he himself is a member, is apt to 
consider many peculiarities in the manners and customs of his 
countrymen as founded on the universal principles of the human 
constitution; and when he hears of other nations, whose practices 
in similar cases are different, he is apt to censure them as unnatural, 
and to despise them as absurd. There are two classes of men who 
have more particularly been charged with this weakness; those who 
are placed at the bottom, and those who have reached the summit 
of the scale of refinement; the former from ignorance, and the latter 
from national vanity. 

For curing this class of prejudices, the obvious expedient which 
nature points out to us, is to extend our acquaintance with human 
affairs, either by means of books, or of personal observation. The 
effects of travelling, in enlarging and in enlightening the mind, are 
obvious to our daily experience; and similar advantages may be 
derived, (although, perhaps, not in an equal degree,) from a careful 
study of the manners of past ages or of distant nations, as they are 
described by the historian. In making, however, these attempts 
for our intellectual improvement, it is of the utmost consequence to 
us to vary, to a considerable degree, the objects of our attention, in 
order to prevent any danger of our acquiring an exclusive preference 

* The reader will scarcely believe, that the following cure for a dysentery is copied 
verbatim from the works of Mr. Boyle 

1 ‘ Take the thigh-bone of a hanged man, (perhaps another may serve, but this was 
still made use of,) calcine it to whiteness, and having purged the patient with an anti- 
monial medicine, give him one drachm of this white powder for one dose, in some good 
cordial, whether conserve or liquor.” 


190 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


for the caprices of any one people, whose political situation, or whose 
moral character, may attach us to them as faultless models for our 
imitation. The same weakness and versatility of mind; the same 
facility of association, which in the case of a person who has never 
extended his views beyond his own community, is a source of 
national prejudice and of national bigotry, renders the mind, when 
forced into new situations, easily susceptible of other prejudices no 
less capricious; and frequently prevents the time, which is devoted 
to travelling, or to study, from being subservient to any better 
purpose than an importation of foreign fashions, or a still more 
ludicrous imitation of ancient follies. 

The philosopher whose thoughts dwell habitually, not merely 
upon what is, or what has been, but upon what is best and most 
expedient for mankind; who, to the study of books, and the obser¬ 
vation of manners, has added a careful examination of the principles 
of the human constitution, and of those which ought to regulate the 
social order; is the only person who is effectually secured against 
both the weaknesses which I have described. By learning to 
separate what is essential to morality and to happiness, from those 
adventitious trifles which it is the province of fashion to direct, he 
is equally guarded against the follies of national prejudice, and a 
weak deviation, in matters of indifference, from established ideas. 
Upon his mind, thus occupied with important subjects of reflection, 
the fluctuating caprices and fashions of the times lose their influ¬ 
ence ; while, accustomed to avoid the slavery of local and arbitrary 
habits, he possesses, in his own genuine simplicity of character, the 
same power of accommodation to external circumstances, which men 
of the world derive from the pliability of their taste, and the versa¬ 
tility of their manners. As the order, too, of his ideas is accommo¬ 
dated, not to what is casually presented from without, but to his 
own systematical principles, his associations are subject only to 
those slow and pleasing changes which arise from his growing light 
and improving reason; and, in such a period of the world as at 
present, when the press not only excludes the possibility of a 
permanent retrogradation in human affairs, but operates with an 
irresistible though gradual progress, in undermining prejudices 
and in extending the triumphs of philosophy, he may reasonably 
indulge the hope, that society will every day approach nearer and 
nearer to what he wishes it to be. A man of such a character, 
instead of looking back on the past with regret, finds himself (if I 
may use the expression) more at home in the world, and more 
satisfied with its order, the longer he lives in it. The melancholy 
contrasts which old men are sometimes disposed to state, between 
its condition, when they are about .to leave it, and that in which 
they found it at the commencement of their career, arises, in most 
cases, from the unlimited influence which in their early years they 
had allowed to the fashions of the times, in the formation of their 
characters. How different from those sentiments and prospects 


OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


191 

which dignified the retreat of Turgot, and brightened the declining 
years of Franklin! 

The querulous temper, however, which is incident to old men, 
although it renders their manners disagreeable in the intercourse 
of social life, is by no means the most contemptible form in which 
the prejudices I have now been describing may display their 
influence. Such a temper indicates at least a certain degree of 
observation, in marking the vicissitudes of human affairs, and a 
certain degree of sensibility in early life, which has connected 
pleasing ideas with the scenes of infancy and youth. A very great 
proportion of mankind are, in a great measure, incapable either of 
the one or of the mother; and, suffering themselves to be carried 
quietly along with the stream of fashion, and finding their opinions 
and their feelings always in the same relative situation to the fleet¬ 
ing objects around them, are perfectly unconscious of any progress 
in their own ideas, or of any change in the manners of their age. 
In vain the philosopher reminds them of the opinions they yesterday 
held; and forewarns them, from the spirit of the times, of those 
which they are to hold to-morrow. The opinions of the present 
moment seem to them to be inseparable from their constitution; 
and when the prospects are realized which they lately treated as 
chimerical, their minds are so gradually prepared for the event, 
that they behold it without any emotions of w r onder or curiosity; 
and it is to the philosopher alone, by whom it was predicted, that 
it appears to furnish a subject worthy of future reflection. 

The prejudices to which the last observations relate, have their 
origin in that disposition of our nature, which accommodates the 
order of our ideas, and our various intellectual habits, to whatever 
appearances have been long and familiarly presented to the mind. 
But there are other prejudices, which, by being intimately asso¬ 
ciated with the essential principles of our constitution, or with the 
original and universal laws of our belief, are incomparably more 
inveterate in their nature, and have a far more extensive influence 
on human character and happiness. 

(3.) The manner in which the association of ideas operates in 
producing this third class of our speculative errors, may be con¬ 
ceived, in part, from what was formerly said, concerning the super¬ 
stitious observances which are mixed with the practice of medicine 
among rude nations. As all the different circumstances which 
accompanied the first administration of a remedy, come to be con¬ 
sidered as essential to its future success, and are blended together 
in our conceptions, without any discrimination of their relative 
importance; so, whatever tenets and ceremonies we have been 
taught to connect with the religious creed of our infancy, become 
almost a part of our constitution, by being indissolubly united with 
truths which are essential to happiness, and which we are led to 
reverence and to love, by all the best dispositions of the heart. 
The astonishment which the l peasant feels, when he sees the rites of 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


192 


a religion different from his own, is not less great than if he saw 
some flagrant breach of the moral duties, or some direct act of 
impiety to God; nor is it easy for him to conceive, that there can 
be any thing worthy in a mind which treats with indifference what 
awakens in his own breast all its best and sublimest emotions. 
“ Is it possible,” says the old and expiring Bramin, in one of 
Marmontel’s tales, to the young English officer who had saved the 
life of his daughter, “ is it possible, that he to whose compassion I 
owe the preservation of my child, and who now soothes my last 
moments with the consolations of piety, should not believe in the 
god Vistnou, and his nine metamorphoses l” 

What has now been said on the nature of religious superstition, 
may be applied to many other subjects. In particular, it may be 
applied to those political prejudices which bias the judgment even 
of enlightened men in all countries of the world. 

How deeply rooted in the human frame are those important 
principles which interest the good man in the prosperity of the 
world; and more especially in the prosperity of that beloved com¬ 
munity to which he belongs! How small, at the same time, is the 
number of individuals who, accustomed to contemplate one modi¬ 
fication alone of the social order, are able to distinguish the cir¬ 
cumstances which are essential to human happiness, from those 
which are indifferent or hurtful! In such a situation, how natural 
is it for a man of benevolence, to acquire an indiscriminate and 
superstitious veneration for all the institutions under which he has 
been educated; as these institutions, however capricious and absurd 
in themselves, are not only familiarized by habit to all his thoughts 
and feelings, but are consecrated in his mind by an indissoluble 
association with duties which nature recommends to his affections, 
and which reason commands him to fulfil. It is on these accounts 
that a superstitious zeal against innovation, both in religion and 
politics, where it is evidently grafted on piety to God, and good 
will to mankind, however it may excite the sorrow of the more 
enlightened philosopher, is justly entitled, not only to his indul¬ 
gence, but to his esteem and affection. 

The remarks which have been already made, are sufficient to 
show how necessary it is for us, in the formation of our philoso¬ 
phical principles, to examine with care all those opinions which, in 
our early years, we have imbibed from our instructors; or which are 
connected with our own local situation. Nor does the universality 
of an opinion among men who have received a similar education, 
afford any presumption in its favour; for however great the defer¬ 
ence is, which a wise man will always pay to common belief, upon 
those subjects which have employed the unbiassed reason of man¬ 
kind, he certainly owes it no respect, in so far as suspects it to 
be influenced by fashion or authority. Nothing can be more just 
than the observation of Fontenelle, that “ the number of those 
who believe in a system already established in the world, does not, 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


193 

in the least, add to its credibility; but that the number of those 
who doubt of it, has a tendency to diminish it.” 

The same remarks lead, upon the other hand, to another conclu¬ 
sion of still greater importance; that, notwithstanding the various 
false opinions which are current in the world, there are some 
truths, which are inseparable from the human understanding, and 
by means of which, the errors of education, in most instances, are 
enabled to take hold of our belief. 

A weak mind, unaccustomed to reflection, and which has pas¬ 
sively derived its most important opinions from habits or from 
authority, when, in consequence of a more enlarged intercourse 
with the world, it finds, that ideas which it had been taught to 
regard as sacred, are treated by enlightened and worthy men with 
ridicule, is apt to lose its reverence for the fundamental and eternal 
truths on which these accessory ideas are grafted, and easily falls a 
prey to that sceptical philosophy which teaches, that all the opinions, 
and all the principles of action by which mankind are governed, 
may be traced to the influence of education and example. Amidst 
the infinite variety of forms, however, which our versatile nature 
assumes, it cannot fail to strike an attentive observer, that there are 
certain indelible feature? common to them all. In one situation, 
we find good men attached to a republican form of government; in 
another, to a monarchy; but in all situations, we find them devoted 
to the service of their country and of mankind, and disposed to 
regard, with reverence and love, the most absurd and capricious 
institutions which custom has led them to connect with the order of 
society. The different appearances, therefore, which the political 
opinions and the political conduct of men exhibit, while they 
demonstrate to what a wonderful degree human nature may be 
influenced by situation and by early instruction, evince the exist¬ 
ence of some common and original principles, which fit it for the 
political union, and illustrate the uniform operation of those laws of 
association, to which, in all the stages of society, it is equally subject. 

Similar observations are applicable, and, indeed, in a still more 
striking degree, to the opinions of mankind on the important ques¬ 
tions of religion and morality. The variety of systems which they 
have formed to themselves concerning these subjects, has often 
excited the ridicule of the sceptic and the libertine; but if, on the 
one hand, this variety shows the folly of bigotry, and the reason¬ 
ableness of mutual indulgence ; the curiosity which has led men in 
every situation to such speculations, and the influence which their 
conclusions, however absurd, have had on their character and their 
happiness, prove, no less clearly on the other, that there must be 
some principles from which they all derive their origin; and invite 
the philosopher to ascertain what are these original and immutable 
laws of the human mind. 

“ Examine,” says Mr. Hume, “the religious principles which 
have prevailed in the world. You will scarcely be persuaded, that 


194 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


they are anything but sick men’s dreams; or, perhaps, will regard 
them more as the play some whimsies of monkeys in human shape, 
than the serious, positive, dogmatical asseverations of a being who 

dignifies himself with the name of rational.”-“ To oppose the 

torrent of scholastic religion by such feeble maxims as these, that 
it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be; that the 
whole is greater than a part ; that two and three make five: is pre¬ 
tending to stop the ocean with a bulrush.” But what is the infe¬ 
rence to which we are led by these observations ? Is it, to use the 
words of this ingenious writer, “ that the whole is a riddle, an 
enigma, an inexplicable mystery; and that doubt, uncertainty, and 
suspense, appear the only result of our most accurate scrutiny 
concerning this subject?” Or should not rather the melancholy 
histories which he has exhibited of the follies and caprices of super¬ 
stition, direct our attention to those sacred and indelible characters 
on the human mind, which all these perversions of ’reason are 
unable to obliterate; like that image of himself, which Phidias 
wished to perpetuate, by stamping it so deeply on the buckler of 
his Minerva ; “ ut nemo delere posset aut divellere, qui totam sta- 
tuam non imminueret.” [That no one could obliterate or detach it 
without destroying the whole statue.] (Select Discourses by John 
Smith, p. 119, Cambridge, 1673). In truth, the more strange the con¬ 
tradictions, and the more ludicrous the ceremonies to which the pride 
of human reason has thus been reconciled; the stronger is our evi¬ 
dence that religion has a foundation in the nature of man. When the 
greatest of modern philosophers declares, that “ he would rather 
believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, 
than that this universal frame is without mind;” (Lord Bacon in his 
Essays;) he has expressed the same feeling, which, in all ages and 
nations, has led good men, unaccustomed to reasoning, to an implicit 
faith in the creed of their infancy;—a feeling which affords an evi¬ 
dence of the existence of the Deity, incomparably more striking, 
than if, unmixed with error and undebased by superstition, this 
most important of all principles had commanded the universal assent 
of mankind. Where are the other truths, in the whole circle of the 
sciences, which are so essential to human happiness, as to procure 
an easy access, not only for themselves, but for whatever opinions 
may happen to be blended with them ? Where are the truths so 
venerable and commanding, as to impart their own sublimity to 
every trifling memorial which recalls them to our remembrance: 
to bestow solemnity and elevation on every mode of expression by 
which they are conveyed; and which, in whatever scene they have 
habitually occupied the thoughts, consecrate every object which it 
presents to our senses, and the very ground we have been accus¬ 
tomed to tread? To attempt to weaken the authority of such 
impressions, by a detail of the endless variety of forms which they 
derive from casual associations, is surely an employment unsuitable 
to the dignity of philosophy. To the vulgar it may be amusing, 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


195 

m this, as in other instances, to indulge their wonder at what is 
new or uncommon; but to the philosopher it belongs to perceive, 
under all these various disguises, the workings of the same common 
nature; and in the superstitions of Egypt, no less than in the lofty 
visions of Plato, to recognise the existence of those moral ties 
which unite the heart of man to the Author of his being. 

II. Influence of the Association of Ideas on our Judgments in Matters 
of Taste.—The very general observations which I am to make in 
this Section, do not presuppose any particular theory concerning 
the nature of taste. It is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that 
taste is not a simple and original faculty , but a power gradually 
formed by experience and observation. It implies, indeed, as its 
ground-work, a certain degree of natural sensibility ; but it implies 
also the exercise of the judgment; and is the slow result of an 
attentive examination and comparison of the agreeable or dis¬ 
agreeable effects produced on the mind by external objects. 

Such of my readers as are acquainted with “ An Essay on the 
Nature and Principles of Taste,” lately published by Mr. Alison, 
will not be surprised that I decline the discussion of a subject which 
he has treated with so much ingenuity and elegance. 

The view which was formerly given of the process by which the 
general laws of the material world are investigated, and which I 
endeavoured to illustrate by the state of medicine among rude 
nations, is strictly applicable to the history of taste. That certain 
objects are fitted to give pleasure, and others disgust, to the mind, 
we know from experience alone; and it is impossible for us, by any 
reasoning a priori , to explain, how the pleasure or the pain is pro¬ 
duced. In the works of nature we find, in many instances, beauty 
and sublimity involved among circumstances, which are either 
indifferent, or which obstruct the general effect; and it is only by 
a train of experiments, that we can separate those circumstances 
from the rest, and ascertain with what particular qualities the 
pleasing effect is connected. Accordingly, thq inexperienced 
artist, when he copies nature, will copy her servilely, that he 
may be certain of securing the pleasing effect; and the beauties of 
his performances will be encumbered with a number of superfluous 
or of disagreeable concomitants. Experience and observation alone 
can enable him to make this discrimination; to exhibit the principles 
of beauty pure and unadulterated, and to form a creation of his own, 
more faultless than ever fell under the observation of his senses. 

This analogy between the progress of taste from rudeness to 
refinement; and the progress of physical knowledge from the 
superstitions of a savage tribe, to the investigation of the laws of 
nature, proceeds on the supposition, that, as in the material world 
there are general facts, beyond which philosophy is unable to 
proceed; so, in the constitution of man, there is an inexplicable 
adaptation of the mind to the objects with which these faculties are 
conversant; in consequence of which, these objects are fitted to 


196 


PART r. 


CHAP. VI. 


produce agreeable or disagreeable emotions. In both cases, rea¬ 
soning may be employed with propriety to refer particular pheno¬ 
mena to general principles; but in both cases, we must at last 
arrive at principles of which no account can be given, but that such 
is the will of our Maker. 

A great part, too, of the remarks which were made in the last 
section on the origin of popular prejudices, may be applied to 
explain the influence of casual associations on taste; but these 
remarks do not so completely exhaust the subject, as to supersede 
the necessity of farther illustration. In matters of taste, the 
effects which we consider, are produced on the mind itself; and are 
accompanied either with pleasure or with pain. Hence the ten¬ 
dency to casual association, is much stronger than it commonly is, 
with respect to physical events; and when such associations are 
once formed, as they do not lead to any important inconvenience, 
similar to those which result from physical mistakes, they are not 
so likely to be corrected by mere experience, unassisted by study. 
To this it is owing, that the influence of association on our judg¬ 
ments concerning beauty and deformity, is still more remarkable 
than on our speculative conclusions; a circumstance which has 
led some philosophers to suppose, that association is sufficient to 
account for the origin of these notions; and that there is no such 
thing as a standard of taste, founded on the principles of the human 
constitution. But this is undoubtedly pushing the theory a great 
deal too far. The association of ideas can never account for the 
origin of a new notion; or of a pleasure essentially different from 
all the others which we know. It may, indeed, enable us to con¬ 
ceive how a thing indifferent in itself, may become a source of 
pleasure, by being connected in the mind with something else 
which is naturally agreeable; but it presupposes, in every instance, 
the existence of those notions and those feelings which it is its 
province to combine : insomuch that, I apprehend, it will be found, 
wherever association produces a change in our judgments on mat¬ 
ters of taste, it does so, by co-operating with some natural principle 
of the mind, and implies the existence of certain original sources of 
pleasure and uneasiness. 

A mode of dress , which at first appeared awkward, acquires, 
in a few weeks or months, the appearance of elegance. By being 
accustomed to see it worn by those whom we consider as models 
of taste, it becomes associated with the agreeable impressions 
which we receive from the ease and grace and refinement of their 
manners. When it pleases by itself, the effect is to be ascribed, 
not to the object actually before us, but to the impressions with 
which it has been generally connected, and which it naturally 
recalls to the mind. 

This observation points out the cause of the perpetual vicissitudes 
in dress, and in everything whose chief recommendation arises 
from fashion. It is evident that, as far as the agreeable effect of 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


197 


an ornament arises from association, the effect will continue only 
while it is confined to the higher orders. When it is adopted by 
the multitude, it not only ceases to be associated with ideas of taste 
and refinement, but it is associated with ideas of affectation, absurd 
imitation, and vulgarity. It is accordingly laid aside by the higher 
orders, who studiously avoid every circumstance in external appear¬ 
ance, which is debased by low and common use; and they are led 
to exercise their invention, in the introduction of some new pecu¬ 
liarities, which first become fashionable, then common, and last of 
all, are abandoned as vulgar. 

It has been often remarked, that after a certain period in the 
progress of society, the public taste becomes corrupted; and the 
different productions of the fine arts begin to degenerate from that 
simplicity, which they had attained in their state of greatest per¬ 
fection. One reason of this decline is suggested by the foregoing 
observations. 

From the account which has been given of the natural progress 
of taste, in separating the genuine principles of beauty from super¬ 
fluous and from offensive concomitants, it is evident, that there is a 
limit, beyond which the love of simplicity cannot be carried. No 
bounds, indeed, can be set to the creations of genius; but as this 
quality occurs seldom in an eminent degree, it commonly happens, 
that after a period of great refinement of taste, men begin to gratify 
their love of variety, by adding superfluous circumstances to the 
finished models exhibited by their predecessors, or by making other 
trifling alterations on them, with a view merely of diversifying the 
effect. These additions and alterations, indifferent, perhaps, or 
even in some degree offensive in themselves, acquire soon a bor¬ 
rowed beauty, from the connexion in which we see them, or from 
the influence of fashion: the same cause which at first produced 
them, continues perpetually to increase their number; and taste 
returns to barbarism, by almost the same steps which conducted it 
to perfection. 

The truth of these remarks will appear still more striking to 
those who consider the wonderful effect which a writer of splendid 
genius, but of incorrect taste, has in misleading the public judg¬ 
ment. The peculiarities of such an author are consecrated by the 
connexion in which we see them, and even please, to a certain 
degree, when detached from the excellences of his composition, by 
recalling to us the agreeable impressions with which they have been 
formerly associated. How many imitations have we seen, of the 
affectations of Sterne, by men who were unable to copy his beauties ? 
And yet these imitations of his defects; of his abrupt manner ; of 
his minute specification of circumstances; and even of his dashes, 
produce, at first, some effect on readers of sensibility, but of uncul¬ 
tivated taste, in consequence of the exquisite strokes of the pathetic, 
and the singular vein of humour, with which they are united in the 
original. 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


198 


From what has been said, it is obvious, that [the circumstances 
which please, in the objects of taste, are of two kinds : First, those 
which are fitted to please by nature , or by associations which all 
mankind are led to form by their common condition ; and, secondly, 
those which please in consequence of associations arising from local 
and accidental circumstances. Hence, there are two kinds of taste: 
the one enabling us to judge of those beauties which have a foun¬ 
dation in the human constitution ; the other, of such objects as derive 
their principal recommendation from the influence of fashion] 

These two kinds of taste are not always united in the same per¬ 
son : indeed, I am inclined to think, that they are united but rarely. 
The perfection of the one, depends much upon the degree in which 
we are able to free the mind from the influence of casual associa¬ 
tions ; that of the other, on the contrary, depends on a facility of 
association, which enables us to fall in, at once, with all the turns 
of the fashion, and, as Shakespeare expresses it, “ to catch the tune 
of the times.” 

I shall endeavour to illustrate some of the foregoing remarks, by 
applying them to the subject of language, which affords numberless 
instances to exemplify the influence which the association of ideas 
has on our judgments in matters of taste. 

In the same manner in which an article of dress acquired an 
appearance of elegance or of vulgarity from the persons by whom 
it is habitually worn; so a particular mode of pronunciation acquires 
an air of fashion or of rusticity, from the persons by whom it is 
habitually employed. The Scotch accent is surely in itself as good 
as the English; and with a few exceptions, is as agreeable to the 
ear : and yet how offensive does it appear, even to us, who have 
been accustomed to hear it from our infancy, when compared with 
that which is used by our southern neighbours !—No reason can be 
given for this, but that the capital of Scotland is now become a 
provincial town, and London is the seat of our court. 

igiT The distinction which is to be found in the languages of all 
civilised nations, between low and polite modes of expression, arises 
from similar causes. It is, indeed, amusing to remark the solicitude 
with which the higher orders, in the monarchies of modern Europe, 
avoid every circumstance in their exterior appearance and manner, 
which, by the most remote association, may, in the minds of others, 
connect them with the idea of the multitude. Their whole dress 
and deportment and conversation are studiously arranged to convey 
an imposing notion of their consequence ; and to recall to the spec¬ 
tator, by numberless slight and apparently unintentional hints, the 
agreeable impressions which are associated with the advantages of 
fortune. 

To this influence of association on language, it is necessary for 
every writer to attend carefully, who wishes to express himself with 
elegance. For the attainment of correctness and purity in the use 
of words, the rules of grammarians and of critics may be a sufficient 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


199 

guide ; but it is not in the works of this class of authors, that the 
higher beauties of style are to be studied. As the air and manner 
of a gentleman can be acquired only by living habitually in the best 
society, so grace in composition must be attained by an habitual 
acquaintance with classical writers. It is indeed necessary for our 
information, that we should peruse occasionally many books which 
have no merit in point of expression; but I believe it to be ex¬ 
tremely useful to all literary men, to counteract the effect of this 
miscellaneous reading, by maintaining a constant and familiar 
acquaintance with a few of the most faultless models which the 
language affords. For want of some standard of this sort, we 
frequently see an author’s taste in writing alter much to the worse 
in the course of his life; and his later productions fall below the 
level of his early essays. D’Alembert tells us, that Voltaire had 
always lying on his table, the Petit Car6me of Massillon, and the 
tragedies of Racine; the former to fix his taste in prose composi¬ 
tion, and the latter in poetry. 

In avoiding, however, expressions which are debased by vulgar 
use, there is a danger of running into the other extreme in quest of 
fashionable words and phrases. Such an affectation may, for a few 
years, gratify the vanity of an author, by giving him the air of a 
man of the world, but the reputation it bestows is of a very tran¬ 
sitory nature. The works which continue to please from age to 
age are written with perfect simplicity, while those which captivate 
the multitude by a display of meretricious ornaments, if, by chance, 
they should survive the fashions to which they are accommodated, 
remain only to furnish a subject of ridicule to posterity. 62T The 
portrait of a beautiful woman in the fashionable dress of the day may 
please at the moment it is painted, nay, may perhaps please more 
than in any that the fancy of the artist could have suggested, but 
it is only in the plainest and simplest drapery that the most perfect 
form can be transmitted with advantage to future times. 

The exceptions which the history of literature seems to furnish 
to these observations are only apparent. That, in the works of our 
best authors there are many beauties which have long and generally 
been admired, and which yet owe their whole effect to association, 
cannot be disputed, but, in such cases, it will always be found that 
the associations which are the foundation of our pleasures, have, in 
consequence of some peculiar combination of circumstances, been 
more widely diffused, and more permanently established among 
mankind than those which date their origin from the caprices of 
our own age are ever likely to be. An admiration for the classical 
remains of antiquity is, at present, not less general in Europe than 
the advantages of a liberal education, and such is the effect of this 
admiration that there are certain caprices of taste from which no 
man who is well educated is entirely free. A composition in a 
modern language, which should sometimes depart from the ordi- 
nary modes of expression, from an affectation of the idioms which 


200 


PART I. 


CHAP. vr. 


are consecrated in the classics, would please a very wide circle of 
readers in consequence of the prevalence of classical associations, 
and therefore, such affectations, however absurd when carried to a 
degree of singularity, are of a far superior class to those which.are 
adapted to the fashions of the day. But still the general principle 
holds true, that whatever beauties derive their original merely from 
casual association, must appear capricious to those to whom the 
association does not extend, and that the simplest style is that which 
continues longest to please, and which pleases most universally. 
In the writings of Mr. Harris there is a certain classical air which 
will always have many admirers while ancient learning continues 
to be cultivated, but which, to a mere English reader, appears 
somewhat unnatural and ungraceful when compared with the com¬ 
position of Swift or of Addison. 

The analogy of the arts of statuary and painting may be of 
use in illustrating these remarks. The influence of ancient times 
has extended to these as well as to the art of writing, and in this 
case, no less than in the other, the transcendent power of genius 
has established a propriety of choice in matters of indifference, and 
has, perhaps, consecrated in the opinion of mankind some of its 
own caprices. 

“Many of the ornaments of art,” says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
“ those at least for which no reason can be given, are transmitted to 
us, are adopted, and acquire their consequence from the company 
in which ^e have been used to see them. As Greece and Rome 
are the fountains from whence have flowed all kinds of excellence, 
to that veneration which they have a right to claim for the pleasure 
and knowledge which they have afforded us, we voluntarily add our 
approbation of every ornament and every custom that belonged to 
them, even to the fashion of their dress. For it may be observed 
that, not satisfied with them in their own place, we make no diffi¬ 
culty of dressing statues of modern heroes or senators in the fashion 
of the Roman armour, or peaceful robe, and even go so far as 
hardly to bear a statue in any other drapery. 

“ The figures of the great men of those nations have come down 
to us in sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent 
specimens of ancient art. We have so far associated personal dig¬ 
nity to the persons thus represented, and the truth of art to their 
manner of representation, that it is not in our power any longer to 
separate them. This is not so in painting, because having no excel¬ 
lent ancient portraits, that connexion was never formed. Indeed, 
we could no more venture to paint a general officer in a Roman 
military habit than we could make a statue in the present uniform. 
But since we have no ancient portraits to show how ready we are 
to adopt those kinds of prejudices, we make the best authority among 
the moderns serve the same purpose. The great variety of excel¬ 
lent portraits with which Yandyke has enriched this nation, we are 
not content to admire for their real excellence, but extend our 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


201 


approbation even to the dress which happened to he the fashion of 
that age. By this means, it must be acknowledged, very ordinary 
pictures acquired something of the air and effect of the works of 
Vandyke, and appeared therefore, at first sight, better pictures 
than they really were. They appeared so, however, to those only 
who had the means of making this association.”—(Reynolds’s Dis¬ 
courses, p. 313, et seq.) 

The influence of association on our notions concerning language, 
is still more strongly exemplified in poetry than in prose. As it is 
one great object of the poet, in his serious productions, to elevate 
the imagination of his readers above the grossness of sensible objects, 
and the vulgarity of common life, it becomes peculiarly necessary 
for him to reject the use of all words and phrases which are trivial 
and hackneyed. Among those which are equally pure and equally 
perspicuous, he, in general, finds it expedient to adopt that which 
is the least common. Milton prefers the words Rhene and Danaw 
to the more common words Rhine and Danube :— 

“ A multitude, like which the populous North 
Pour’d never from his frozen loins, to pass 
Rhene or the Danaw.”—Paradise Lost, book i. 1. 351. 

In the following line, 

“ Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,” 

}iow much more suitable to the poetical style does the expression 
appear, than if the author had said, 

“ Things unattempted yet in prose or verse.” 

In another passage, where, for the sake of variety, he has made use 
of the last phrase, he adds an epithet, to remove it a little from the 
familiarity of ordinary discourse. 

“-in prose or numerous verse.”— 

Paradise Lost, book i. 1. 150. See Newton’s Edit. 

In consequence of this circumstance, there arises gradually in 
every language a poetical diction, which differs widely, from the 
common diction of prose. It is much less subject to the vicissitudes 
of fashion, than the polite modes of expression in familiar conver¬ 
sation; because, when it has once been adopted by the poet it 
is avoided by good prose writers, as being too elevated for that 
species of composition. It may therefore retain its charm, as long 
as the language exists; nay, the charm may increase, as the lan¬ 
guage grows older. 

Indeed, the charm of poetical diction must increase to a certain 
degree, as polite literature advances. For when once a set of 
words has been consecrated to poetry, the very sound of them, 
independently of the ideas they convey, awakens every time we hear 
it, the agreeable impressions which were connected with it when 
we met with them in the performances of our favourite authors. 



PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


202 


Even when strung together in sentences which convey no meaning, 
they produce some effect on the mind of a reader of sensibility; 
an effect, at least, extremely different from that of an unmeaning 
sentence in prose. 

Languages differ from each other widely in the copiousness of 
their poetical diction. Our own possesses, in this respect, impor¬ 
tant advantages over the French : not that in this language there 
are no words appropriated to poetry, but because their number is, 
comparatively speaking, extremely limited. 

The scantiness of the French poetical diction is, probably, 
attended with the less inconvenience, that the phrases which occur 
in good prose writing are less degraded by vulgar application than 
in English, in consequence of the line being more distinctly and 
more strongly drawn between polite and low expressions in that 
language than in ours. Our poets, indeed, by having a language 
appropriated to their own purposes, not only can preserve dignity 
of expression, but can connect with the perusal of their compositions, 
the pleasing impressions which have been produced by those of their 
predecessors. And hence, in the higher sorts of poetry, where 
their object is to kindle, as much as possible, the enthusiasm of 
their readers, they not only avoid, studiously, all expressions which 
are vulgar, but all such as are borrowed from fashionable life. This 
certainly cannot be done in an equal degree by a poet who writes 
in the French language. 

In English, the poetical diction is so extremely copious, that it is 
liable to be abused; as t puts it in the power of authors of no 
genius, merely by ringing changes on the poetical vocabulary, to 
give a certain degree of currency to the most unmeaning compo¬ 
sitions. In Pope’s Song by a Person of Quality , the incoherence of 
ideas is scarcely greater than what is to be found in some admired 
passages of our fashionable poetry. 

Nor is it merely by a difference of words, that the language of 
poetry is distinguished from that of prose. When a poetical 
arrangement of words has once been established by authors of repu¬ 
tation, the most common expressions, by being presented in this 
consectated order, may serve to excite poetical associations. 

On the other hand, nothing more completely destroys the charm 
of poetry, than a string of words which the custom of ordinary 
discourse has arranged in so invariable an order, that the whole 
phrase may be anticipated from hearing its commencement. A single 
word frequently strikes us as flat and prosaic, in consequence of its 
familiarity: but two such words coupled together in the order of 
conversation, can scarcely be introduced into serious poetry without 
appearing ludicrous. 

No poet in our language has shown so strikingly as Milton, the 
wonderful elevation which style may derive from an arrangement 
of words, which, while it is perfectly intelligible, departs widely 
from that to which we are in general accustomed. Many of his 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 203 

most sublime periods, when the order of the words is altered, are 
reduced nearly to the level of prose. 

To copy this artifice with success is a much more difficult attain¬ 
ment than is commonly imagined ; and, of consequence, when it is 
acquired, it secures an author, to a great degree, from that crowd 
of imitators who spoil the effect of whatever is not beyond their 
reach. To the poet who uses blank verse, it is an acquisition of still 
more essential consequence than to him who expresses himself in 
rhyme; for the more that the structure of the verse approaches to 
prose, the more it is necessary to give novelty and dignity to the 
composition. And accordingly, among our magazine poets, ten 
thousand catch the structure of Pope’s versification, for one who 
approaches to the manner of Milton or of Thomson. 

The facility, however, of this imitation, like every other, increases 
with the number of those who have studied it with success; for the 
more numerous the authors who have employed their genius in any 
one direction, the more copious are the materials out of which 
mediocrity may select and combine, so as to escape the charge of 
plagiarism. [And, in fact, in our own language, this, as well as 
the other great resource of poetical expression, the employment of 
appropriated words, has had its effect so much impaired by the 
abuse which has been made of it, that a few of our best poets of 
late have endeavoured to strike out a new path for themselves by 
resting the elevation for their composition chiefly on a singular, 
and, to an ordinary writer, an unattainable union of harmonious 
versification , with a natural arrangement of words , and a simple 
elegance of expression. It is this union which seems to form the 
distinguishing charm of the poetry of Goldsmith.] 

From the remarks^which have been made on the influence of the 
association of ideas on our judgments in matters of taste, it is 
obvious how much the opinions of a nation with respect to merit in 
the fine arts, are likely to be influenced by the form of their govern¬ 
ment, and the state of their manners. Voltaire, in his discourse 
pronounced at his reception into the French academy, gives several 
reasons why the poets of that country have not succeeded in 
describing rural scenes and employments. The principal one is, 
the ideas of meanness, and poverty, and wretchedness, which the 
French are accustomed to associate with the profession of husbandry. 
The same thing is alluded to by the Abbe de Lille, in the pre¬ 
liminary discourse prefixed to his translation of the Georgies. 
“ A translation,” says he, “ of this poem, if it had been undertaken 
by an author of genius, would have been better calculated than 
any other work, for adding to the riches of our language. A 
version of the iEneid itself, however well executed, would, in this 
respect, be of less utility; inasmuch, as the genius of our tongue 
accommodates itself more easily to the description of heroic achieve¬ 
ments, than to the details of natural phenomena, and of the opera¬ 
tions of husbandry: To force it to express these with suitable 


204 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


dignity, would have been a real conquest over that false delicacy, 
which it has contracted from our unfortunate prejudices.” 

How different must have been the emotions with which this 
divine performance of Virgil was read by an ancient Roman, while 
he recollected that period in the history of his country, when dic¬ 
tators were called from the plough to the defence of the state, and 
after having led monarchs in triumph, returned again to the same 
happy and independent occupation. A state of manners to which 
a Roman author of a later age looked back with such enthusiasm, 
that he ascribes, by a bold poetical figure, the flourishing state of 
agriculture under the republic, to the grateful returns which the 
earth then made to the illustrious hands by which she was culti¬ 
vated. “ Gaudente terra vomere laureato, et triumphali aratore.” 
(Plin. Nat. Hist, xviii. 4.)* 

III. Of the Influence of Association on our active Principles , and on 
our moral Judgments. —In order to illustrate a little farther the 
influence of the association of ideas on the human mind, I shall add 
a few remarks on some of its effects on our active and moral prin¬ 
ciples. In stating these remarks, I shall endeavour to avoid, as 
much as possible, every occasion of controversy, by confining 
myself to such general views of the subject, as do not presuppose 
any particular enumeration of our original principles of action, 
or any particular system concerning the nature of the moral 
faculty. If my health and leisure enable me to carry my plans 
into execution, I propose, in the sequel of this work, to resume 
these inquiries, and to examine the various opinions to which they 
have given rise. 

The manner in which the association of ideas operates in pro¬ 
ducing new principles of action, has been explained very distinctly 
by different writers. Whatever conduces to the gratification of any 
natural appetite, or of any natural desire, is itself desired on account 
of the end to which it is subservient; and by being thus habitually 
associated in our apprehension with agreeable objects, it frequently 
comes, in process of time, to be regarded as valuable in itself, inde¬ 
pendently of its utility. It is thus that wealth becomes, with many, 
an ultimate object?of pursuit; although, at first, it is undoubtedly 
valued, merely on account of its subserviency to the attainment of 
other objects. In like manner, men are led to desire dress, equi¬ 
page, retinue, furniture, on account of the estimation in which they 
are supposed to be held by the public. Such desires are called by 
Dr. Hutcheson (see his Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the 
Passions), secondary desires: and their origin is explained by him 
in the way which I have mentioned. “ Since we are capable,” says 
he, “ of reflection, memory, observation, and reasoning about the 
distant tendencies of objects and actions, and not confined to things 
present, there must arise, in consequence of our original desires, 
secondary desires of everything imagined useful to gratify any of 

* “ The soil delighted with the laurell’d plough, and triumph-honour’d ploughman.” 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


205 

the primary desires; and that with strength proportioned to the 
several original desires, and imagined usefulness or necessity of the 
advantageous object.” “ Thus,” he continues, “ as soon as we 
come to apprehend the use of wealth or power to gratify any of our 
original desires, we must also desire them; and hence arises the 
universality of these desires of wealth and power, since they are the 
means of gratifying all other desires.” The only thing that appears 
to me exceptionable in the foregoing passage is, that the author 
classes the desire of power with that of wealth; whereas I appre¬ 
hend it to be clear, (for reasons which I shall state in another part 
of this work), that the former is a primary desire, and the latter 
a secondary one. 

Our moral judgments, too, may be modified, and even perverted, 
to a certain degree, in consequence of the operation of the same 
principle. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded 
as a model of taste may introduce, by his example, an absurd or 
fantastical dress; so a man of splendid virtues may attract some 
esteem also to his imperfections; and, if placed in a conspicuous 
situation, may render his vices and follies objects of general imita¬ 
tion among the multitude. 

“ In the reign of Charles II.,” says Mr. Smith (Theory of Moral 
Sentiments), “ a degree of licentiousness was deemed the character¬ 
istic of a liberal education. It was connected, according to the 
notions of those times, with generosity, sincerity, magnanimity, 
loyalty; and proved that the person who acted in this manner was 
a gentleman, and not a puritan. Severity of manners, and regu¬ 
larity of conduct, on the other hand, were altogether unfashionable, 
and were connected, in the imagination of that age, with cant, cun¬ 
ning, hypocrisy, and low manners. To superficial minds, the vices 
of the great seem at all times agreeable. They connect them, not 
only with the splendour of fortune, but with many superior virtues 
which they ascribe to their superiors; with the spirit of freedom 
and independency; with frankness, generosity, humanity, and 
politeness. The virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the 
contrary, their parsimonious frugality, their pajjiful industry, and 
rigid adherence to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. 
They connect them both with the meanness of the station to which 
these qualities commonly belong, and with many great vices which 
they suppose usually accompany them; such as an abject, cowardly, 
ill-natured, lying, pilfering disposition.” 

The theory which, in the foregoing passages from Hutcheson and 
Smith, is employed so justly and philosophically to explain the 
origin of our secondary desires, and to account for some perversions 
of our moral judgments, has been thought sufficient, by some later 
writers, to account for the origin of all our active principles without 
exception. The first of these attempts to extend so very far the 
application of the doctrine of Association was made by the Reverend 
Mr. Gay, in a dissertation “ concerning the fundamental Principle 


206 


PART 


CHAP. VI. 


of Virtue,” which is prefixed by Dr. Law to his translation of 
Archbishop King’s Essay “ On the Origin of Evil.” In this disser¬ 
tation, the author endeavours to show, “ that our approbation of 
morality, and all affections whatsoever, are finally resolvable into 
reason, pointing out private happiness, and are conversant only 
about things apprehended to be means tending to this end; and 
that wherever this end is not perceived, they are to be accounted 
for from the association of ideas, and may properly be called habits” 
The same principles have been since pushed to a much greater 
length by Dr. Hartley, whose system (as he himself informs us) 
took rise from his accidentally hearing it mentioned as an opinion 
of Mr. Gay, “ that the association of ideas was sufficient to account 
for all our intellectual pleasures and pains.”* 

It must, I think, in justice, be acknowledged, that this theory, 
concerning the origin of our affections, and of the moral sense, is a 
most ingenious refinement upon the.selfish system, as it was for¬ 
merly taught; and that, by means of it, the force of many of the 
common reasonings against that system is eluded. Among these 
reasonings, particular stress has always been laid on the instanta¬ 
neousness with which our affections operate, and the moral sense 
approves or condemns; and on our total want of consciousness, in 
such cases, of any reference to our own happiness. The modern 
advocates for the selfish system admit the fact to be as it is stated 
by their opponents; and grant, that after the moral sense and our 
various affections are formed, their exercise, in particular cases, 
may become completely disinterested; but still they contend, that 
it is upon a regard to our own happiness that all these principles 
are originally grafted. The analogy of avarice will serve to illus¬ 
trate the scope of this theory. It cannot be doubted that this 
principle of action is artificial. It is on account of the enjoyments 
which it enables us to purchase, that money is originally desired; 
and yet, in process of time, by means of the agreeable impressions 
which are associated with it, it comes to be desired for its own sake; 
and even continues to be an object of our pursuit, long after we 
have lost all relish for those enjoyments which it enables us to 
command. 

Without meaning to engage in any controversy on the subject, 
I shall content myself with observing, in general, that [there must 
be some limit, beyond which the theory of association cannot possi¬ 
bly be carried; for the explanation which it gives, of the formation 
of new principles of action, proceeds on the supposition that there 
are other principles previously existing in the mind. The great 
question then is, when we are arrived at this limit; or, in other 

* Mr. Hume too, who, in my opinion, has carried this principle of the association 
of ideas a great deal too far, has compared the universality of its applications in the 
philosophy of mind, to that of the principle of attraction in physics. “ Here,” says he 
“ is a kind of attraction, which in the mental world will be found to have as extraor¬ 
dinary effects as in the natural, and to show itself in as many and as various forms.” 
—Treat, of Hum. Nat. vol. i. p. 30. 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 207 

words, when we are arrived at the simple and original laws of our 
constitution.] 

In conducting this inquiry, philosophers have been apt to go into 
extremes. Lord Kaimes, and some other authors, have been cen¬ 
sured, and perhaps justly, for a disposition to multiply original 
principles to an unnecessary degree. It may be questioned, 
whether Dr. Hartley and his followers, have not sometimes been 
misled by too eager a desire of abridging their number. 

Of these two errors, the former is the least common, and the 
least dangerous. It is the least common, because it is not so flat¬ 
tering as the other to the vanity of a theorist; and it is the least 
dangerous, because it has no tendency, like the other, to give rise 
to a suppression, or to a misrepresentation of facts; or to retard 
the progress of the science, by bestowing upon it an appearance of 
systematical perfection, to which, in its present state, it is not entitled. 

Abstracting, however, from these inconveniences, which must 
always result from a precipitate reference of phenomena to general 
principles, it does not seem to me, that the theory in question has 
any tendency to weaken the foundation of morals. It has, indeed, 
some tendency, in common with the philosophy of Hobbes and of 
Mandeville, to degrade the dignity of human nature : but it leads 
to no sceptical conclusions concerning the rule of life. For, 
although we were to grant, that all our principles of action are 
acquired; so striking a difference among them must still be admitted, 
as is sufficient to distinguish clearly those universal laws which were 
intended to regulate human conduct, from the local habits which 
are formed by education and fashion. It must still be admitted, 
that while some active principles are confined to particular indi¬ 
viduals, or to particular tribes of men, there are others, which, 
arising from circumstances in which all the situations of mankind 
must agree, are common to the whole species. Such active prin¬ 
ciples as fall under this last description, at whatever period of life 
they may appear, are to be regarded as a part of human nature, no 
less than the instinct of suction : in the same manner as the acquired 
perception of distance by the eye, is to be ranked among the per¬ 
ceptive powers of man, no less than the original perceptions of any 
of our other senses. 

Leaving, therefore, the question concerning the origin of our 
active principles, and of the moral faculty, to be the subject of 
future discussion, I shall conclude this Section with a few remarks 
of a more practical nature. 

It has been shown by different writers how much of the beauty 
and sublimity of material objects arise from the ideas and feelings 
which we have been taught to associate with them. The impression 
produced on the external senses of a poet by the most striking 
scene in nature is precisely the same with what is produced on the 
senses of a peasant or a tradesman: yet how different is the degree 
of pleasure resulting from this impression ! A great part of this 


208 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI* 


difference is undoubtedly to be ascribed to the ideas and feelings 
which the habitual studies and amusements of the poet have asso¬ 
ciated with his organical perceptions. 

A similar observation may be applied to all the various objects of 
our pursuit in life. Hardly any one of them is appreciated by any 
two men in the same manner: and frequently what one man con¬ 
siders as essential to his happiness is regarded with indifference 
or dislike by another. Of these differences of opinion much is, no 
doubt, to be ascribed to a diversity of constitution, which renders 
a particular employment of the intellectual or active powers agree¬ 
able to one man which is not equally so to another. But much is 
also to be ascribed to the effect of association; which, prior to any 
experience of human life, connects pleasing ideas and pleasing 
feelings with different objects, in the minds of different persons. 

In consequence of these associations, every man appears to his 
neighbour to pursue the object of his wishes with a zeal dispro- 
portioned to its intrinsic value; and the philosopher (whose 
principal enjoyment arises from speculation) is frequently apt to 
smile at the ardour with which the active part of mankind pursue 
what appear to him to be mere shadows. This view of human 
affairs, some writers have carried so far, as to represent life as a 
scene of mere illusions, where the mind refers to the objects around 
it, a colouring which exists only in itself; and where, as the poet 
expresses it, 

- “ —— Opinion gilds with varying rays, 

Those painted clouds which beautify our days.” 

It may be questioned, if these representations of human life be 
useful or just. That the casual associations which the mind forms 
in childhood and in early youth, are frequently a source of incon¬ 
venience and of misconduct, is sufficiently obvious ; but that this 
tendency of our nature increases, on the whole, the sum of human 
enjoyment, appears to me to be indisputable ; and the instances in 
which it misleads us from our duty and our happiness, only prove 
to what important ends it might be subservient if it were kept 
under proper regulation. 

Nor do these representations of life (admitting them in their full 
extent) justify the practical inferences which have been often 
deduced from them with respect to the vanity of our pursuits. In 
every case indeed, in which our enjoyment depends upon asso¬ 
ciation, it may be said, in one sense, that it arises from the mind 
itself; but it does not, therefore, follow, that the external object 
which custom has rendered the cause or the occasion of agreeable 
emotions, is indifferent to our happiness. The effect which the 
beauties of nature produce on the mind of the poet is wonderfully 
heightened by association ; but his enjoyment is not on that account 
the less exquisite: nor are the objects of his admiration of the less 
value to his happiness, that they derive their principal charms from 
the embellishments of his fancy. 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 


209 


It is the business of education, not to counteract, in any instance, 
the established laws of our constitution, but to direct them to their 
proper purposes. That the influence of early associations on the 
mind might be employed, in the most effectual manner, to aid our 
moral principles, appears evidently from the effects which we daily 
see it produce, in reconciling men to a course of action which their 
reason forces them to condemn ; and it is no less obvious that by 
means of it, the happiness of human life might be increased, and 
its pains diminished, if the agreeable ideas and feelings which 
children are so apt to connect with events and with situations 
which depend on the caprice of fortune, were firmly associated 
in their apprehensions with the duties of their stations, with 
the pursuits of science, and with those beauties of nature which 
are open to all. 

These observations coincide nearly with the ancient stoical 
doctrine concerning the influence of imagination* on morals; a 
subject on which many important remarks, (though expressed in a 
form different from that which modern philosophers have intro¬ 
duced, and, perhaps, not altogether so precise and accurate,) are to 
be found in the Discourses of Epictetus, and in the Meditations of 
Antoninus.f This doctrine of the Stoical school Dr. Akenside 
has in view in the following passage: 

“ Action treads the path 
In which Opinion says he follows good, 

Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives 
Report of good or evil, as the scene 
Was drawn by fancy, lovely or deformed : 

Thus her report can never there he true. 

Where fancy cheats the intellectual eye 
With glaring colours and distorted lines. 

Is there a man, who at the sound of death 
Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, 

And black before him : nought but death-bed groans 
And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink 
Of light and being, down the gloomy air, 

An unknown depth ? Alas ! in such a mind, 

If no bright forms of excellence attend 
The image of his country ; nor the pomp 
Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice 
Of justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 
The conscious bosom with a patriot’s flame : 

Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, 

Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill 
Than to betray his country ? And in act 
Will he not choose to be a wretch and live ? 

Here vice begins then.”—Pleasures of Imagination, b. iii. 

* According to the use which I make of the words imagination and association iu 
this work, their effects are obviously distinguishable. I have thought it proper, 
however, to illustrate the difference between them a little more fully in note r. 

f See what Epictetus has remarked on the xP 7 l cris ° ia ^ €l (pavraaioov. (Arrian, lib. i. 
c. 12.) ‘Ota av iroKh.ot.Kis <pavraaQi)s, roiavri) <roi oar at 7] diauota. B airrercu yap xnro ruv 
<pavraaiwv r) ipvxv- Bairre ovv avri)v , ttj (rwexeta ruu roiovrwv (pavraaicav, &c. &c.— 
Anton, lib. v. c. 16. [The use that should be made of imagination.—Arr. lib. i. 
For in accordance with what you often imagine, will be your meditations. For the 
mind is imbued with our imaginations. Imbue it therefore with a continuance of such 
imaginations.] 


PART 


CHAP. VI. 


210 

IV. General Remarks on the Subjects treated in the foregoing Sec¬ 
tions of this Chapter. —In pernsing the foregoing Sections of this 
Chapter, I am aware, that some of my readers may be apt to think 
that many of the observations which I have made, might easily be 
resolved into more general principles. I am also aware, that, to 
the followers of Dr. Hartley, a similar objection will occur against 
all the other parts of this work; and that it will appear to them 
the effect of inexcusable prejudice, that I should stop short so fre¬ 
quently in the explanation of phenomena; when he has accounted 
in so satisfactory a manner, by means of the association of ideas, 
for all the appearances which human nature exhibits. 

To this objection, I shall not feel myself much interested to 
reply, provided it be granted that my observations are candidly 
and accurately stated, so far as they reach. Supposing that in 
some cases I may have stopped short too soon, my speculations, 
although they may be censured as imperfect, cannot be considered 
as standing in opposition to the conclusions of more successful 
inquirers. 

May I be allowed farther to observe, that such views of the 
human mind as are contained in this work, (even supposing the 
objection to be well founded,) are, in my opinion, indispensably 
necessary, in order to prepare the way for those very general and 
comprehensive theories concerning it, which some eminent writers 
of the present age have been ambitious to form ? 

Concerning the merit of these theories, I shall not presume to 
give any judgment. I shall only remark, that, in all the other 
sciences, the progress of discovery has been gradual, from the less 
general to the more general laws of nature ; and that it would be 
singular, indeed, if in the philosophy of the human mind, a science 
which but a few years ago was confessedly in its infancy, and which 
certainly labours under many disadvantages peculiar to itself, a step 
should, all at once, be made to a single principle comprehending 
all the particular phenomena which we know. 

Supposing such a theory to be completely established, it would 
still be proper to lead the minds of students to it by gradual steps. 
One of the most important uses of theory, is to give the memory 
a permanent hold, and a prompt command, of the particular facts 
which we were previously acquainted with; and no theory can be 
completely understood, unless the mind be led to it nearly in the 
order of investigation. 

It is more particularly useful, in conducting the studies of 
others, to familiarize their minds, as completely as possible, with 
those laws of nature for which we have the direct evidence of 
sense, or of consciousness, before directing their inquiries to the 
more abstruse and refined generalizations of speculative curiosity. 
In natural philosophy, supposing the theory of Boscovich to be 
true, it would still be proper, or rather indeed absolutely necessary, 
to accustom students, in the first stage of their physical education, 


OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 211 

to dwell on those general physical facts which fall under our actual 
observation, and about which all the practical arts of life are con¬ 
versant. In like manner, in the philosophy of mind, there are 
many general facts for which we have the direct evidence of con¬ 
sciousness. . The words, attention, conception, memory, abstrac¬ 
tion, imagination, curiosity, ambition, compassion, resentment, 
express powers and principles of our nature, which every man 
may study hj reflecting on his own internal operations. Words 
corresponding to these, are to be found in all languages, and may 
be considered as forming the first attempt towards a philosophical 
classification of intellectual and moral phenomena. Such a classi¬ 
fication, however imperfect and indistinct, we may be assured, 
must have some foundation in nature ; and it is at least prudent, 
for a philosopher to keep it in view as the ground-work of his own 
arrangement. It not only directs our attention to those facts in the 
human constitution, on which every solid theory in this branch of 
science must be founded; but to the facts, which, in all ages, 
have appeared, to the common sense of mankind, to be the most 
striking and important; and of which it ought to be the great 
object of theorists, not to supersede, but to facilitate the study. 

There is indeed good reason for believing, that many of the facts 
which our consciousness would lead us to consider, upon a super¬ 
ficial view, as ultimate facts, are resolvable into other principles still 
more general. “Long before we are capable of reflection,” says 
Dr. Reid, “ the original perceptions and notions of the mind are 
so mixed, compounded, and decompounded, by habits, associations, 
and abstractions, that it is extremely difficult for the mind to 
return upon its own footsteps, and trace back those operations 
which have employed it since it first began to think and to act.” 
The same author remarks, that, “ if we could obtain a distinct and 
full history of all that hath passed in the mind of a child, from the 
beginning of life and sensation, till it grows up to the use of 
reason; how its infant faculties began to work, and how they 
brought forth and ripened all the various notions, opinions, and 
sentiments, which we find in ourselves when we come to be capable 
of reflection; this would be a treasure of Natural History, which 
would probably give more light into the human faculties than all 
the systems of philosophers about them, since the beginning of the 
world.” To accomplish an analysis of these complicated pheno¬ 
mena into the simple and original principles of our constitution, is 
the great object of this branch of philosophy; but, in order to 
succeed, it is necessary to ascertain facts before we begin to reason, 
and to avoid generalizing, in any instance, till we have completely 
secured the ground that we have gained. Such a caution, which is 
necessary in all the sciences, is, in a more peculiar manner, neces¬ 
sary here, where the very facts from which all our inferences must 
be drawn, are to be ascertained only by the most patient attention; 


212 


PART I. 


CHAP. VI. 


and where almost all of them are, to a great degree, disguised; 
partly by the inaccuracies of popular language, and partly by the 
mistaken theories of philosophers. 

I have only to add, that, although I have retained the phrase of 
the association of ideas, in compliance with common language, I 
am far from being completely satisfied with this mode of expression. 
I have retained it, chiefly that I might not expose myself to the 
censure of delivering old doctrines in a new form. 

As I have endeavoured to employ it with caution, I hope that it 
has not often misled me in my reasonings. At the same time, I am 
more and more convinced of the advantages to be derived from a 
reformation of the common language, in most of the branches of 
science. How much such a reformation has effected in chemistry 
is well known; and it is evidently much more necessary in the 
philosophy of mind, where the prevailing language adds to the 
common inaccuracies of popular expressions, the peculiar disad¬ 
vantage of being all suggested by the analogy of matter. Often, 
in the composition of this work, have I recollected the advice of 
Bergman to Morveau “In reforming the nomenclature of 
chemistry, spare no word which is improper. They who under¬ 
stand the subject already, will suffer no inconvenience ; and they 
to whom the subject is new, will comprehend it with the greater 
facility.” But it belongs to such authors alone as have extended 
the boundaries of science by their own discoveries, to introduce 
innovations in language with any hopes of success. 


CHAPTER VII. 

OF MEMORY. 

I. General Observations on Memory .— Among the various powers 
of the understanding, there is none which has been so attentively 
examined by philosophers, or concerning which so many important 
facts and observations have been collected, as the faculty of me¬ 
mory. This is partly to be ascribed to its nature, which renders 
it easily distinguishable from all the other principles of our consti¬ 
tution, even by those who have not been accustomed to metaphy¬ 
sical investigations; and partly to its immediate subserviency, not 
only to the pursuits of science, but to the ordinary business of life; 
in consequence of which, many of its most curious laws had been 
observed, long before any analysis was attempted of the other 
powers of the mind, and have, for many ages, formed a part of the 

* “ Le savant Professeur d’Upsal, M. Bergman, ecrivoit a M. de Morveau dans les 
dermers temps de sa vie, ‘ Ne faites graces a aucune denomination impropre. Ceux qui 
savent deja, entendront toujours ; ceux qui ne saventpas encore, entendront plutot.’ ” 
—Methode de Nomenclat. Chemique, par MM. Morveau, Lavoisier &c 



OF MEMORY. 


213 

common maxims which are to be found in every treatise of educa¬ 
tion. Some important remarks on the subject may, in particular, 
be collected from the writings of the ancient rhetoricians. 

_ The word Memory is not employed uniformly in the same pre¬ 
cise sense; but it always expresses some modification of that 
faculty, which enables us to treasure up and preserve for future 
use the knowledge we acquire, a faculty which is obviously the 
great foundation of all intellectual improvement, and without 
which no advantage could be derived from the most enlarged 
experience. [This faculty implies two things —(1) a capacity of 
retaining knowledge, and ( 2 ) a power of recalling it to our 
thoughts when we have occasion to apply it to use. The word 
memory is sometimes employed to express the capacity, and some¬ 
times the power. When we speak of a retentive memory, we use 
it in the former sense; when of a ready memory, in the latter.] 

The various particulars which compose our stock of knowledge 
are, from time to time, recalled to our thoughts in one of two 
ways; sometimes they recur to us spontaneously , or at least, with¬ 
out any interference on our part; in other cases they are recalled, 
in consequence of an effort of our will. For the former operation 
of the mind, we have no appropriated name in our language 
distinct from memory. The latter, too, is often called by the same 
name, but is more properly distinguished by the word recollection. 

There are, I believe, some other acceptations besides these, in 
which the word memory has been occasionally employed; but as 
its ambiguities are not of such a nature as to mislead us in our 
present inquiries, I shall not dwell any longer on the illustration 
of distinctions, which to the greater part of readers might appear 
uninteresting and minute. One distinction only relative to this 
subject occurs to me as deserving particular attention. 

The operations of Memory relate either to things and their rela¬ 
tions , or to events. In the former case, thoughts which have been 
previously in the mind may recur to us without suggesting the 
idea of the past, or of any modification of time whatever; as when 
I repeat over a poem which I have got by heart, or when I think 
of the features of an absent friend. In this last instance, indeed, 
philosophers distinguish the act of the mind by the name of con¬ 
ception ; but in ordinary discourse, and frequently even in philo¬ 
sophical writing, it is considered as an exertion of memory. In 
these and similar cases, it is obvious, that the operations of this 
faculty do not necessarily involve the idea of the past. 

The case is different with respect to the memory of events. 
When I think of these, I not only recall to the mind the former 
objects of its thoughts, but I refer the event to a particular point 
of time; so that, of every such act of memory, the idea of the past 
is a necessary concomitant. 

I have been led to take notice of this distinction, in order to 
obviate an objection which some of the phenomena of memory 


214 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIf. 


seem to present, against a doctrine which I formerly stated, when 
treating of the powers of conception and imagination. 

It is evident, that when I think of an event, in which any object 
of sense was concerned, my recollection of the event must neces¬ 
sarily involve an act of conception. Thus, when I think of a dra¬ 
matic representation which I have recently seen, my recollection 
of what I saw, necessarily involves a conception of the different 
actors by whom it was performed. But every act of recollection 
which relates to events, is accompanied with a belief of their past 
existence. How then are we to reconcile this conclusion with the 
doctrine formerly maintained concerning conception, according to 
which every exertion of that power is accompanied with a belief, 
that its object exists before us at the present moment? 

The only way that occurs to me of removing this difficulty, is 
by supposing, that the remembrance of a past event is not a simple 
act of the mind; but that the mind first forms a conception of the 
event, and then judges from circumstances, of the period of time 
to which it is to be referred: a supposition which is by no means 
a gratuitous one, invented to answer a particular purpose: but 
which, as far as I am able to judge, is agreeable to fact: for if we 
have the power, as will not be disputed, of conceiving a past event 
without any reference to time, it follows, that there is nothing in 
the ideas or notions which memory presents to us, which is neces¬ 
sarily accompanied with a belief of past existence, in a way analo¬ 
gous to that in which our perceptions are accompanied with a 
belief of the present existence of their objects; and, therefore, that 
the reference of the event to the particular period at which it hap¬ 
pened, is a judgment founded on concomitant circumstances. So 
long as we are occupied with the conception of any particular 
object connected with the event, we believe the present existence 
of the object; but this belief, which, in most cases, is only momen¬ 
tary, is instantly corrected by habits of judging acquired by expe¬ 
rience ; and as soon as the mind is disengaged from such a belief, 
it is left at liberty to refer the event to the period at which it actu¬ 
ally happened. Nor will the apparent instantaneousness of such 
judgments be considered as an insurmountable objection to the 
doctrine now advanced, by those who have reflected on the per¬ 
ception of distance obtained by sight, which, although it seems to 
be as immediate as any perception of touch, has been shown by 
philosophers to be the result of a judgment founded on experience 
and observation. The reference we make of past events to the 
particular points of time at which they took place, will, I am 
inclined to think, the more we consider the subject, be found the 
more strikingly analogous to the estimates of distance we learn to 
form by the eye. 

Although, however, I am, myself, satisfied with the conclusion 
to which the foregoing reasonings lead, I am far from expecting 
that the case will be the same with all my readers. Some of their 


OF MEMORY. 


215 

objections, which I can easily anticipate, might, I believe, be obvi¬ 
ated by a little farther discussion ; but as the question is merely a 
matter of curiosity, and has no necessary connexion with the obser¬ 
vations I am to make in this chapter, I shall not prosecute the sub¬ 
ject at present. The opinion, indeed, we form concerning it, has 
no reference to any of the doctrines maintained in this work, except¬ 
ing to a particular speculation concerning the belief accompanying 
conception, which I ventured to state, in treating of that subject, 
and which, as it appears to be extremely doubtful to some whose 
opinions I respect, I proposed with a degree of diffidence suitable 
to the difficulty of such an inquiry. The remaining observations 
which I am to make on the power of memory, whatever opinion 
may be formed of their importance, will furnish but little room for 
a diversity of judgment concerning their truth. 

In considering this part of our constitution, one of the most 
obvious and striking questions that occurs, is, what the circum¬ 
stances are which determine the memory to retain some things in 
preference to others'? Among the subjects which successively 
occupy our thoughts, by far the greater number vanish, without 
leaving a trace behind them; while others become, as it were, a 
part of ourselves, and, by their accumulations, lay a foundation for 
our perpetual progress in knowledge. Without pretending to 
exhaust the subject, I shall content myself at present with a partial 
solution of this difficulty, by illustrating the dependence of memory 
upon two principles of our nature, with which it is plainly very 
intimately connected; attention, and the association of ideas. 

I endeavoured in a former chapter (Chap. II.) to show, that 
there is a certain act of the mind, (distinguished, both by philoso¬ 
phers and the vulgar, by the name of attention,) without which 
even the objects of our perceptions make no impression on the 
memory. It is also matter of common remark, that the permanence 
of the impression which any thing leaves in the memory, is propor¬ 
tioned to the degree of attention which was originally given to it. 
The observation has been so often repeated, and is so manifestly 
true, that it is unnecessary to offer any illustration of it.* 

I have only to observe farther, with respect to attention , con¬ 
sidered in the relation in which it stands to memory , that although 

* It seems to be owing to this dependence of memory on attention, that it is easier 
to get by heart a composition, after a very few readings, with an attempt to repeat it 
at the end of each, than after a hundred readings without such an effort. The effort 
rouses the attention from that languid state in which it remains, while the mind is 
giving a passive reception to foreign ideas. The fact is remarked by Lord Bacon, and 
is explained by him on the same principle to which I have referred it. 

“ Quae expectantur et attentionem excitant, melius haerent quam quae praetervolant. 
Itaque si scriptum aliquod vicies perlegeris, non tam facile illud memoriter disces, 
quam si illud legas decies, tentando interim illud recitare, et ubi deficit memoria, 
inspiciendo librum.”—Bacon, Nov. Org. lib. ii. aph. 26. [Whatever is expected, and 
excites the attention, adheres more tenaciously than what fleets past. And so if you 
read any thing twenty times, you will not so easily commit it to memory as if you 
should read it ten times, trying to recite it, and where your memory fails, looking at 
the book.] 


216 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


it be a voluntary act, it requires experience to have it always under 
command. In the case of objects to which we have been taught to 
attend at an early period of life, or which are calculated to rouse 
the curiosity, or to affect any of our passions, the attention fixes 
itself upon them, as it were spontaneously, and without any effort 
on our part, of wdiich we are conscious. How perfectly do we 
remember, and even retain, for a long course of years, the faces 
and the hand-writings of our acquaintances, although we never 
took any particular pains to fix them in the memory ? On the 
other hand, if an object does not interest some principle of our 
nature, we may examine it again and again, with a wish to treasure 
up the knowledge of it in the mind, without our being able to 
command that degree of attention which may lead us to recognise 
it the next time we see it. A person, for example, who has not 
been accustomed to attend particularly to horses or to cattle, may 
study for a considerable time the appearance of a horse or of a 
bullock, without being able a few days afterwards to pronounce on 
his identity; while a horse-dealer or a grazier recollects many 
hundreds of that class of animals with which he is conversant, 
as perfectly as he does the faces of his acquaintances. In order 
to account for this, I would remark, that although attention be a 
voluntary act, and although we are always able, when we choose, to 
make a momentary exertion of it; yet, unless the object to which 
it is directed be really interesting, in some degree, to the curiosity, 
the train of our ideas goes on, and we immediately forget our pur¬ 
pose. When we are employed, therefore, in studying such an 
object, it is not an exclusive and steady attention that we give to it, 
but we are losing sight of it, and recurring to it every instant; and 
the painful efforts of which we are conscious, are not, (as we are 
apt to suppose them to be,) efforts of uncommon attention, but un¬ 
successful attempts to keep the mind steady to its object, and to 
exclude the extraneous ideas, which are from time to time soliciting 
its notice. 

If these observations be well founded, they afford an explanation 
of a fact which has been often remarked, that objects are easily re¬ 
membered which affect any of the passions.* The passion assists 
the memory, not in consequence of any immediate connexion be¬ 
tween them, but as it presents, during the time it continues, a 
steady and exclusive object to the attention. 

[The connexion between memory and the association of ideas, 
is so striking, that it has been supposed by some, that the whole of 

* “ Si quas res in vita videmus parvas, usitatas, quotidianas, eas meminisse non 
solemus ; propterea quod nulla nisi nova aut admirabili re commovetur animus. At si 
quid videmus aut audimus egregie turpe, aut honestum, inusitatum, magnum, incredi- 
bile, ridiculum, id diu meminisse consuevimus.”—Ad Herenn. lib. 3. [If in life we 
see any things insignificant, usua, of daily occurrence, we do not usually remember 
them, for this reason, that the mind is excited only by something new or admirable • 
but if we see or hear of any things remarkably base or honourable, unusual, great’ 
incredible, ridiculous, we are wont to remember them for a long time.] 


OF MEMORY. 


217 

its phenomena might be resolved into this principle. But this is 
evidently not the case. The association of ideas connects our 
various thoughts with each other, so as to present them to the mind 
in a certain order, but it presupposes the existence of these thoughts 
in the mind; or, in other words, it presupposes a faculty of retain¬ 
ing the. knowledge which we acquire. It involves also a power of 
recognising, as former objects of attention,, the thoughts that from 
time to time occur to us: a power which is not implied in that law 
of our nature which is called the association of ideas.] It is pos¬ 
sible, surely, that our thoughts might have succeeded each other, 
according to the same laws as at present, without suggesting to us 
at all the idea of the past; and, in fact, this supposition is realized 
to a certain degree in the case of some old men, who retain pretty 
exactly the information which they receive, but are sometimes un¬ 
able to recollect in what manner the particulars which they find 
connected together in their thoughts, at first came into the mind; 
whether they occurred to them in a dream, or were communicated 
to them in conversation. 

On the other hand, it is evident, that without the associating 
principle, the powers of retaining our thoughts, and of recognising 
them when they occur to us, would have been of little use; for 
the most important articles of our knowledge might have remained 
latent in the mind, even when those occasions presented themselves 
to which they are immediately applicable. In consequence of this 
law of our nature, not only are all our various ideas made to pass, 
from time to time, in review before us, and to offer themselves to 
our choice as subjects of meditation, but when an occasion occurs 
which calls for the aid of our past experience, the occasion itself 
recalls to us all the information upon the subject which that expe¬ 
rience has accumulated. 

The foregoing observations comprehend an analysis of memory 
sufficiently accurate for my present purpose: some other remarks, 
tending to illustrate the same subject more completely, will occur 
in the remaining sections of this chapter. 

It is hardly necessary for me to add, that [when we have pro¬ 
ceeded so far in our inquiries concerning memory, as to obtain an 
analysis of that power, and to ascertain the relation in which it 
stands to the other principles of our constitution, we have advanced 
as far towards an explanation of it as the nature of the subject 
permits.] The various theories which have attempted to account 
for it by traces or impressions in the sensorium, are obviously too 
unphilosophical to deserve a particular refutation. (See Note s.) 
Such, indeed, is the poverty of language, that we cannot speak on 
the subject without employing expressions which suggest one theory 
or another; but it is of importance for us always to recollect, that 
these expressions are entirely figurative, and afford no explanation 
of the phenomena to which they refer. It is partly with a view to 
remind my readers of this consideration, that, finding it impossible 


218 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII 


to lay aside completely metaphorical or analogical words, I 
have studied to avoid such an uniformity in the employment of 
them, as might indicate a preference to one theory rather than 
another; and, by doing so, have perhaps sometimes been led to 
vary the metaphor oftener and more suddenly, than would be 
proper in a composition which aimed at any degree of elegance. 
This caution in the use of the common language concerning me¬ 
mory, it seemed to me the more necessary to attend to., that the 
general disposition which every person feels at the commencement 
of his philosophical pursuits, to explain the phenomena of thought 
by the laws of matter, is, in the case of this particular faculty, 
encouraged by a variety of peculiar circumstances. The analogy 
between committing a thing to memory that we wish to remember, 
and engraving on a tablet a fact that we wish to record, is so striking 
as to present itself even to the vulgar; nor is it perhaps less natu¬ 
ral to indulge the fancy in considering memory as a sort of repo¬ 
sitory, in which we arrange and preserve for future use the materials 
of our information. The immediate dependence, too, of this faculty 
on the state of the body, which is more remarkable than that of any 
other faculty whatever, (as appears from the effects produced on it 
by old age, disease, and intoxication,) is apt to strike those who have 
not been much conversant with these inquiries, as bestowing some 
plausibility on the theory which attempts to explain its phenomena 
on mechanical principles. 

I cannot help taking this opportunity of expressing a wish, that 
medical writers would be at more pains than they have been at 
hitherto, to ascertain the various effects which are produced on the 
memory by disease and old age. These effects are widely diversi¬ 
fied in different cases. In some it would seem that the memory is 
impaired, in consequence of a diminution of the power of attention; 
in others, that the power of recollection is disturbed, in consequence 
of a derangement of that part of the constitution on which the asso¬ 
ciation of ideas depends. The decay of memory, which is the com¬ 
mon effect of age, seems to arise from the former of these causes. 
It is probable, that, as we advance in years, the capacity of atten¬ 
tion is weakened by some physical change in the constitution; but 
it is also reasonable to think, that it loses its vigour partly from the 
effect which the decay of our sensibility, and the extinction of our 
passions, have, in diminishing the interest which we feel in the 
common occurrences of life. That no derangement takes place, in 
ordinary cases, in that part of the constitution on which the asso¬ 
ciation of ideas depends, appears from the distinct and circumstan¬ 
tial recollection which old men retain of the transactions of their 
youth.* In some diseases this part of the constitution is evidently 

* Swift somewhere expresses his surprise, that old men should remember their 
anecdotes so distinctly, and should, notwithstanding, have so little memory as to tell 
the same story twice in the course of the same conversation ; and a similar remark is 
made by Montaigne, in one of his Essays : “ Surtout les vieillards sont dangereux, a 


OF MEMORY. 


219 

affected. A stroke of the palsy has been known, while it did not 
destroy the power of speech, to render the patient incapable of 
recollecting the names of the most familiar objects. What is still 
more remarkable, the name of an object has been known to suggest 
the idea of it as formerly, although the sight of the object ceased 
to suggest the name. 

In so far as this decay of memory which old age brings along 
with it, is a necessary consequence of a physical change in the con¬ 
stitution, or a necessary consequence of a diminution of sensibility, 
it is the part of a wise man to submit cheerfully to the lot of his 
nature. But it is not unreasonable to think, that something may 
be done by our own efforts, to obviate the inconveniences which 
commonly result from it. If individuals, who, in the early part of 
life, have weak memories, are sometimes able to remedy this defect, 
by a greater attention to arrangement in their transactions, and to 
classification among their ideas, than is necessary to the bulk of 
mankind, might it not be possible, in the same way, to ward off, at 
least to a certain degree, the encroachments which time makes on 
this faculty ? The few old men who continue in the active scenes 
of life to the last moment, it has been often remarked, complain, in 
general, much less of a want of recollection, than their contempo¬ 
raries. This is undoubtedly owing partly to the effect which the 
pursuits of business must necessarily have, in keeping alive the 
power of attention. But it is probably owing also to new habits of 
arrangement, which the mind gradually and insensibly forms, from 
the experience of its growing infirmities. The apparent revival of 
memory in old men, after a temporary decline, which is a case 
that happens not unfrequently, seems to favour this supposition. 

One old man, I have, myself, had the good fortune to know, 
who, after a long, an active, and an honourable life, having begun 
to feel some of the usual effects of advanced years, has been able to 
find resources in his own sagacity, against most of the inconve¬ 
niences with which they are commonly attended; and who, by 
watching his gradual decline with the cool eye of an indifferent 
observer, and employing his ingenuity to retard its progress, has 
converted even the infirmities of age into a source of philosophical 
amusement. 

II. Of the Varieties of Memory in different Individuals .—It is 
generally supposed, that, of all our faculties, memory is that which 
nature has bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different indi¬ 
viduals ; and it is far from being impossible that this opinion may 
be well founded. If, however, we consider that there is scarcely 

qui la souvenance des choses passees demeure, et ont perdu la souvenance de leurs 
redites.”—Liv. i. cap. ix. (Des Menteurs.) [There is much reason to dread danger 
from old men, who recollect past events, but cannot remember the repetition of them 
accounts of them.—Concerning Liars.] , - 

The fact seems to be, that all their old ideas remain in the mind, connected as 101 - 
merly by the different associating principles ; but that the power of attention to new 
ideas and new occurrences is impaired. 


220 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


any man who has not memory sufficient to learn the use of language, 
and to learn to recognise, at the first glance, the appearances of 
an infinite number of familiar objects; besides acquiring such an 
acquaintance with the laws of nature, and the ordinary course of 
human affairs, as is necessary for directing his conduct in life ; we 
shall be satisfied that the original disparities among men, in this 
respect, are by no means so immense as they seem to be at first 
view ; and that much is to be ascribed to different habits of atten¬ 
tion, and to a difference of selection among the various objects and 
events presented to their curiosity. 

As the great purpose to which this faculty is subservient, is to 
enable us to collect, and to retain, for the future regulation of our 
conduct, the results of our past experience ; it is evident that [the 
degree of perfection which it attains in the case of different persons, 
must vary ; first, with the facility of making the original acquisi¬ 
tion ; secondly, with the permanence of the acquisition ; and thirdly, 
with the quickness or readiness with which the individual is able, 
on particular occasions, to apply it to use. The qualities, there¬ 
fore, of a good memory are, in the first place, to be susceptible; 
secondly, to be retentive ; and thirdly, to be ready.'] 

It is but rarely that these three qualities are united in the same 
person. We often, indeed, meet with a memory which is at once 
susceptible and ready; but I doubt much, if such memories be 
commonly very retentive: for, susceptibility and readiness are both 
connected with a facility of associating ideas, according to their 
more obvious relations; whereas retentiveness, or tenaciousness of 
memory, depends principally on what is seldom united with this 
facility, a disposition to system and to philosophical arrange¬ 
ment. These observations it will be necessary to illustrate more 
particularly. 

I have already remarked, in treating of a different subject, that 
the bulk of mankind, being but little accustomed to reflect and to 
generalize, associate their ideas chiefly according to their more 
obvious relations; those, for example, of resemblance and of analogy; 
and above all, according to the casual relations arising from con¬ 
tiguity in time and place; whereas, in the mind of a philosopher, 
ideas are commonly associated according to those relations which 
are brought to light in consequence of particular efforts of attention ; 
such as the relations of causes and effect, or of premises and conclu¬ 
sion. This difference in the modes of association of these two 
classes of men, is the foundation of some very striking diversities 
between them in respect of intellectual character. 

In the first place, in consequence of the nature of the relations 
which connect ideas together in the mind of the philosopher, it 
must necessarily happen, that when he has occasion to apply to use 
his acquired knowledge, time and reflection will be requisite to 
enable him to recollect it. In the case of those, on the other hand, 
who have not been accustomed to scientific pursuits, as their ideas 


OF MEMORY. 


221 

are connected together according to the most obvious relations, 
when any one idea of a class is presented to the mind, it is imme¬ 
diately followed by the others, which succeed each other spon¬ 
taneously, according to the laws of association. In managing, 
therefore, the little details of some subaltern employment, in which 
all that is required is, a knowledge of forms, and a disposition to 
observe them, the want of a systematical gjnius is an important 
advantage ; because this want renders the mind peculiarly suscep¬ 
tible of habits, and allows the train of its ideas to accommodate 
itself perfectly to the daily and hourly occurrences of its situation. 
But if, in this respect, men of no general principles have an advan¬ 
tage over the philosopher, they fall greatly below him in another 
point of view; inasmuch as all the information which they possess, 
must necessarily be limited by their own proper experience; 
whereas the philosopher, who is accustomed to refer every thing to 
general principles, is not only enabled, by means of these, to arrange 
the facts which experience has taught him, but by reasoning from 
his principles synthetically, has it often in his power to determine facts 
a priori , which he has no opportunity of ascertaining by observation. 

It follows farther, from the foregoing principles, that the intel¬ 
lectual defects of the philosopher, are of a much more corrigible 
nature, than those of the mere man of detail. If the former is 
thrown by accident into a scene of business, more time will perhaps 
be necessary to qualify him for it, than would be requisite for the 
generality of mankind; but time and experience will infallibly, 
sooner or later, familiarize his mind completely with his situation. 
A capacity for system and for philosophical arrangement, unless it 
has been carefully cultivated in early life, is an acquisition which 
can scarcely ever be made afterwards; and, therefore, the defects 
which I already mentioned, as connected with early and constant 
habits of business, adopted from imitation, and undirected by 
theory, may, when once these habits are confirmed, be pronounced 
to be incurable. 

I am also inclined to believe, both from a theoretical view of the 
subject, and from my own observations as far as they have reached, 
that if we wish to fix the particulars of our knowledge very per¬ 
manently in the memory, the most effectual way of doing it, is to 
refer them to general principles. Ideas which are connected 
together merely by casual relations, present themselves with readi¬ 
ness to the mind, so long as we are forced by the habits of our 
situation to apply them daily to use; but when a change of circum¬ 
stances leads us to vary the objects of our attention, we find our 
old ideas gradually to escape from the recollection : and if it should 
happen that they escape from it altogether, the only method of 
recovering them, is by renewing those studies by which they were 
at first acquired. The case is very different with a man whose 
ideas, presented to him at first by accident, have been afterwards 
philosophically arranged and referred to general principles. When 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


222 


he wishes to recollect them, some time and reflection will, fre¬ 
quently, be necessary to enable him to do so; but the information 
which he has once completely acquired, continues, in general, to 
be an acquisition for life; or if, accidentally, any article of it should 
be lost, it may often be recovered by a process of reasoning. 

Sip” Something very similar to this happens in the study of lan¬ 
guages. A person who acquires a foreign language merely by the 
ear, and without any\nowledge of its principles, commonly speaks 
it while he remains in the country where it is spoken with more 
readiness and fluency than one. who has studied it grammatically, 
but in the course of a few years’ absence he finds himself almost as 
ignorant of it as before he acquired it. A language of which we 
once understand the principles thoroughly it is hardly possible to 
lose by disuse. 

A philosophical arrangement of our ideas is attended with another 
very important advantage. In a mind where the prevailing prin¬ 
ciples of association are founded on casual relations among the 
various objects of its knowledge, the thoughts must necessarily 
succeed each other in a very irregular and disorderly manner, and 
the occasions on which they present themselves will be determined 
merely by accident. They will often occur when they cannot be 
employed to any purpose, and will remain concealed from our view 
when the recollection of them might be useful. They cannot there¬ 
fore be considered as under our own proper command. But in the 
case of a philosopher, how slow soever he may be in the recollec¬ 
tion of his ideas, he knows always where he is to search for them 
so as to bring them all to bear on their proper object. When he 
wishes to avail himself of his past experience, or of his former con¬ 
clusions, the occasion itself summons up every thought in his mind 
which the occasion requires. Or if he is called upon to exert his 
powers of invention and of discovery, the materials of both are always 
at hand, and are presented to his view with such a degree of con¬ 
nexion and arrangement as may enable him to trace with ease their 
various relations. How much invention depends upon a patient 
and attentive examination of our ideas in order to discover the 
less obvious relations which subsist among them, I had occasion to 
show, at some length, in a former chapter. 

The remarks which have been now made are sufficient to illus¬ 
trate the advantages which the philosopher derives in the pursuits 
of science from that sort of systematical memory which his habits of 
arrangement give him. It may however be doubted whether such 
habits be equally favourable to a talent for agreeable conversation, 
at least for that lively, varied conversation which forms the principal 
charm of a promiscuous society. The conversation which pleases 
generally must unite the recommendations of quickness, of ease, 
and of variety, and in all these three respects that of the philoso¬ 
pher is apt to be deficient. It is deficient in quickness, because 
his ideas are connected by relations which occur only to an attentive 


of memory- 


223 

and collected mind. It is deficient in ease, because these relations 
are not the casual and obvious ones by which ideas are associated 
in ordinary memories, but the slow discoveries of patient, and often 
painful exertion. As the ideas, too, which he associates together 
are commonly of the same class or at least are referred to the same 
general principles, he is in danger of becoming tedious by indulging 
himself in long and systematical discourses; [while another, pos¬ 
sessed of the most inferior accomplishments, by laying his mind 
completely open to impressions from without, and by accommodating 
continually the course of his own ideas, not only to the ideas which 
are started by his companions, but to every trifling and unexpected 
accident that may occur to give them a new direction, is the life 
and soul of every society into which he enters.] Even the anecdotes 
which the philosopher has collected, however agreeable they may 
be in themselves, are seldom introduced by him into conversation 
with that unstudied but happy propriety which we admire in men 
of the world, whose facts are not referred to general principles, but 
are suggested to their recollection by the familiar topics and occur¬ 
rences of ordinary life. Nor is it the imputation of tediousness 
merely, to which the systematical thinker must submit from common 
observers. It is but rarely possible to explain completely, in a 
promiscuous society, all the various parts of the most simple theory ; 
and, as nothing appears weaker or more absurd than a theory which 
is partially stated, it frequently happens that men of ingenuity, by 
attempting it, sink, in the vulgar apprehension, below the level of 
ordinary understandings. “ Theoriarum vires,” says Lord Bacon, 
“in apta et se mutuo sustinente partium harmonia et quadam 
in orbem demonstratione consistunt, ideoque per partes traditse 
infirmae sunt.”* 

Before leaving the subject of casual memory, it may not be 
improper to add, that how much soever it may disqualify for sys¬ 
tematical speculation, there is a species of loose and rambling 
composition to which it is peculiarly favourable. With such per¬ 
formances it is often pleasant to unbend the mind in solitude when 
W'e are more in the humour for conversation than for connected 
thinking. Montaigne is unquestionably at the head of this class of 
authors. “What, indeed, are his Essays,” to adopt his own account 
of them, “ but grotesque pieces of patchwork, put together with¬ 
out any certain figure, or any order, connexion, or proportion but 
what is accidental?” (Liv. i. chap. 27.) 

It is, however, curious, that in consequence of the predominance 
in his mind of this species of memory above every other, he is 
forced to acknowledge his total want of that command over his 
ideas which can only be founded on habits of systematical arrange¬ 
ment. As the passage is extremely characteristical of the author, 

* “ The powers of theory consist in a certain congruous and mutually-sustaining 
harmony of the parts, and a sort of circuit of demonsti’ation, and therefore they are 
weak when partially stated/’ 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


224 


and affords a striking confirmation of some of the preceding obser¬ 
vations, I shall give it in his own words. “ Je ne me tiens pas bien 
en ma possession et disposition : le hazard y a plus de trait que 
moy : l’occasion, la compagnie, le branle m£me de ma voix, tire plus 
de mon esprit, que je n’y trouve lorsque je sonde et employe a 
part moy. Ceci m’advient aussi, que je ne me trouve pas ou je me 
cherche ; et me trouve plus par rencontre, que par l’inquisition de 
mon jugement.” (Liv. i. chap. 10.—Du Parler prompt ou tardif.)* 

The differences which I have now pointed out between philoso¬ 
phical and casual memory constitute the most remarkable of all the 
varieties which the minds of different individuals considered in 
respect to this faculty present to our observation. But there are 
other varieties of a less striking nature, the consideration of which 
may also suggest some useful reflections. 

It was before remarked, that our ideas are frequently associated 
in consequence of the associations which take place among their 
arbitrary signs. Indeed, in the case of all our general speculations, 
it is difficult to see in what other way our thoughts can be associated, 
for I before endeavoured to show that without the use of signs of one 
kind or another, it would be impossible for us to make classes, or 
genera, objects of our attention. 

[All the signs by which our thoughts are expressed are addressed 
either to the eye or to the ear; and the impressions made on these 
organs at the time when we first receive an idea, contribute to give 
us a firmer hold of it.] Visible objects (as I observed in the chapter 
on conception) are remembered more easily than those of any of 
our other senses : and hence it is that the.bulk of mankind are more 
aided in their recollection by the impressions made on the eye than 
by those made on the ear. Every person must have remarked, in 
studying the elements of geometry, how much his recollection of 
the theorems was aided by the diagrams which are connected with 
them: and I have little doubt that the difficulty which students 
commonly find to remember the propositions of the fifth book of 
Euclid, arises chiefly from this, that the magnitudes to which they 
relate, are represented by straight lines, which do not make so strong 
an impression on the memory, as the figures which illustrate the 
propositions in the other five books. 

This advantage, which the objects of sight naturally have over 
those of hearing, in the distinctness and the permanence of the 
impressions which they make on the memory, continues, and even 
increases, through life, in the case of the bulk of mankind; because 
their minds, being but little addicted to general and abstract dis¬ 
quisition, are habitually occupied, either with the immediate 

* “ I have by no means much self-possession or guard of my disposition. Chance, 
in that, has more influence than myself: occasion, company, the sound of my voice, 
draw more from my mind than I can make out, when I probe it and try in solitude. 
This also happens to me, that I do not attain what I search for, and rather happen on 
it by chance than by the power of my judgment.”—Concerning Speaking quickly or 
slowly. 


OF MEMORY. 


225 


perception of such objects, or with speculations in which the con¬ 
ception of them is more or less involved; which speculations, so 
far as they relate to individual things and individual events, may 
be carried on with little or no assistance from language. 

The case is different with the philosopher, whose habits of 
abstraction and generalisation lay him continually under a neces¬ 
sity of employing words as an instrument of thought. Such habits 
co-operating with that inattention which he is apt to contract to 
things external, must have an obvious tendency to weaken the 
original powers of recollection and conception with respect to visible 
objects; and at the same time to strengthen the power of retaining 
propositions and reasonings expressed in language. The common 
system of education, too, by exercising the memory so much in the 
acquisition of grammar rules, and of passages from the ancient 
authors, contributes greatly, in the case of men of letters, to cultivate 
a capacity for retaining words. 

It is surprising of what a degree of culture our power of 
retaining a succession, even of insignificant sounds, is susceptible. 
&IT Instances sometimes occur, of men who are easily able to 
commit to memory a long poem composed in a language of which 
they are wholly ignorant; and I have myself known more than one 
instance of an individual who, after having forgotten completely 
the classical studies of Ips childhood, was yet able to repeat with 
fluency long passages from Homer and Virgil, without annexing an 
idea to the words that he uttered. 

This susceptibility of memory with respect to words is possessed 
by all men in a very remarkable degree in their early years, and is, 
indeed, necessary to enable them to acquire the use of language; 
hut unless it be carefully cultivated afterwards by constant exercise, 
it gradually decays as we advance to maturity. The plan of edu¬ 
cation which is followed in this country, however imperfect in many 
respects, falls in happily with this arrangement of nature, and stores 
the mind richly, even in infancy, with intellectual treasures, which 
are to remain with it through life. The rules of grammar, which 
comprehend systems, more or less perfect, of the principles of the 
dead languages, take a permanent hold of the memory, when the 
understanding is yet unable to comprehend their import; and the 
classical remains of antiquity, which, at the time we acquire them, 
do little more than furnish a gratification to the ear, supply us with 
inexhaustible sources of the most refined enjoyment; and, as our 
various powers gradually unfold themselves, are poured forth, with¬ 
out effort, from the memory, to delight the imagination, and to 
improve the heart. It cannot be doubted that a great variety of 
other articles of useful knowledge, particularly with respect to 
geographical and chronological details, might be communicated 
with advantage to children in the form of memorial lines. It is 
only in childhood that such details can be learned with facility; and 
if they were once acquired and rendered perfectly familiar to the 


226 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


mind, onr riper years would be spared much of that painful and 
uninteresting labour, which is perpetually distracting our intel¬ 
lectual powers from those more important exertions for which, in 
their mature state, they seem to be destined. 

This tendency of literary habits in general, and more particularly 
of philosophical pursuits, to exercise the thoughts about words, can 
scarcely fail to have some effect in weakening the powers of recol¬ 
lection and conception with respect to sensible objects; and, in 
fact, I believe it will be found, that whatever advantage the philo¬ 
sopher may possess over men of little education, in stating general 
propositions and general reasonings, he is commonly inferior to them 
in point of minuteness and accuracy, when he attempts to describe 
any object which he has seen, or any event which he has witnessed; 
supposing the curiosity of both, in such cases, to be interested in 
an equal degree. I acknowledge, indeed, that the undivided 
attention which men unaccustomed to reflection are able to give to 
the objects of their perceptions, is, in part, the cause of the live¬ 
liness and correctness of their conceptions. 

With this diversity in the intellectual habits of cultivated and of 
uncultivated minds there is another variety of memory which seems 
to have some connexion. In recognising visible objects the memory 
of one man proceeds on the general appearance, that of another 
attaches itself to some minute and distinguishing marks. A 
peasant knows the various kinds of trees from their general habits ; 
a botanist, from those characteristical circumstances on which his 
classification proceeds. The last kind of memory is, I think, most 
common among literary men, and arises from their habit of recol¬ 
lecting by means of words. It is evidently much easier to express 
by a description a number of botanical marks, than the general 
habit of a tree; and the same remark is applicable to other cases 
of a similar nature. But to whatever cause we ascribe it, there 
can be no doubt of the fact, that many individuals are to be found, 
and chiefly among men of letters, who, although they have no 
memory for the general appearances of objects, are yet able 
to retain with correctness, an immense number of technical dis¬ 
criminations. 

Each of these kinds of memory, has its peculiar advantages and 
inconveniences, which the dread of being tedious induces me to 
leave to the investigation of my readers. 

III. Of the Improvement of Memory.—Analysis of the Principles 
on ivhich the Culture of Memory depends. —The improvement of 
which the mind is susceptible by culture, is more remarkable, per¬ 
haps, in the case of Memory, than in that of any other of our facul¬ 
ties. The fact has been often taken notice of in general terms ; 
but I am doubtful if the particular mode in which culture operates 
on this part of our constitution, has been yet examined by philoso¬ 
phers with the attention which it deserves. 

Of one sort of culture , indeed, of which Memory is susceptible in 


OF MEMORY. 


227 


a very striking degree, no explanation can be given; I mean the 
improvement which the original faculty acquires by mere exercise ; 
or, in other words, the tendency which practice has to increase our 
natural facility of association. This effect-of practice upon the 
memory, seems to be an ultimate law of our nature ; or rather, to 
be a particular instance of that general law, that all our powers, 
both of body and mind, may be strengthened, by applying them to 
their proper purposes. 

Besides, however, the improvement which Memory admits of, in 
consequence of the effects of exercise on the original faculty, it may 
be greatly aided in its operations, by those expedients which reason 
and experience suggest for employing it to the best advantage. 
These expedients furnish a curious subject of philosophical exami¬ 
nation : perhaps, too, the inquiry may not be altogether without 
use; for, although our principal resources for assisting the memory 
be suggested by Nature, yet it is reasonable to think, that in this, 
as in similar cases, by following out systematically the hints which 
she suggests to us, a farther preparation may be made for our 
intellectual improvement. 

Every person must have remarked, in entering upon any new 
species of study, the difficulty of treasuring up in the memory its 
elementary principles; and the growing facility which he acquires 
in this respect, as his knowledge becomes more extensive. By 
analysing the different causes which concur in producing this 
facility, we may, perhaps, be led to some conclusions which may 
admit of a practical application. 

(1.) In every science, the ideas about which it is peculiarly con¬ 
versant, are connected together by some particular associating 
principle ; in one science, for example, by associations founded on 
the relation of cause and effect; in another, by associations founded 
on the necessary relations of mathematical truths; in a third, on 
associations founded on contiguity in place or time. Hence one 
cause of the gradual improvement of memory with respect to the 
familiar objects of our knowledge ; for whatever be the prevailing 
associating principle among the ideas about which we are habitually 
occupied, it must necessarily acquire additional strength from our 
favourite study . 

( 2 .) In proportion as a science becomes more familiar to us, we 
acquire a greater command of attention with respect to the objects 
about which it is conversant; for the information which we already 
possess, gives us an interest in every new truth and every new fact 
which have any relation to it. In most cases, our habits of 
inattention may be traced to a want of curiosity; and therefore 
such habits are to be corrected, not by endeavouring to force 
the attention in particular instances, but by gradually learning 
to place the ideas which we wish to remember, in an interesting 
point of view. 

(3.) When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we aie 

(j 2 


228 


PART I. 


CHAP. vir. 


unable to make a proper discrimination in point of utility and im¬ 
portance, among the ideas which are presented to us; and by 
attempting to grasp at everything, we fail in making those moderate 
acquisitions which are suited to the limited powers of the human 
mind. As our information extends, our selection becomes more 
judicious and more confined; and our knowledge of useful and 
connected truths advances rapidly, from our ceasing to distract the 
attention with such as are detached and insignificant. 

(4.) Every object of our knowledge is related to a variety of 
others ; and may be presented to the thoughts, sometimes by one 
principle of association, and sometimes by another. In proportion, 
therefore, to the multiplication of mutual relations among our ideas, 
(which is the natural result of growing information, and in particu¬ 
lar, of habits of philosophical study,) the greater will be the 
number of occasions on which they will recur to the recollection, 
and the firmer will be the root which each idea, in particular, will 
take in the memory. 

It follows, too, from this observation, that the facility of retaining 
a new fact, or a new idea, will depend on the number of relations 
which it bears to the former objects of our knowledge: and, on the 
other hand, that every such acquisition, so far from loading the 
memory, gives us a firmer hold of all that part of our previous 
information, with which it is in any degree connected. 

It may not, perhaps, be improper to take this opportunity of 
observing, although the remark be not immediately connected with 
our present subject, that the accession made to the stock of our 
knowledge, by the new facts and ideas which we acquire, is not to 
be estimated merely by the number of these facts and ideas consi¬ 
dered individually; but by the number of relations which they 
bear to one another, and to all the different particulars which were 
previously in the mind ; for “new knowledge,” as Mr. Maclaurin 
has well remarked, (see the conclusion of his View of Newton’s 
Discoveries,) “ does not consist so much in our having access to a 
new object, as in comparing it with others already known, observing 
its relations to them, or discerning what it has in common with 
them, and wherein their disparity consists: and, therefore, our 
knowledge is vastly greater than the sum of what all its objects 
separately could afford; and when a new object comes within our 
reach, the addition to our knowledge is the greater, the more we 
already know; so that it increases, not as the new objects increase, 
but in a much higher proportion.” 

(5.) In the last place, the natural powers of memory are, in the 
case of the philosopher, greatly aided by his peculiar habits of 
classification and arrangement. As this is by far the most important 
improvement of which memory is susceptible, I shall consider it 
more particularly than any of the others I have mentioned. 

The advantages which the memory derives from a proper classi¬ 
fication of our ideas, may be best conceived by attending to its 


OF MEMORY. 


229 

effects in enabling us to conduct, with ease, the common business of 
life. GST In what inextricable confusion would the lawyer or the 
merchant be immediately involved, if he were to deposit, in his 
cabinet, promiscuously, the various written documents which daily 
and hourly pass through his hands ? Nor could this confusion be 
prevented by the natural powers of memory, however vigorous they 
might happen to be. By a proper distribution of these documents, 
and. a judicious reference of them to a few general titles, a very 
ordinary memory is enabled to accomplish more, than the most 
retentive, unassisted by method. We know, with certainty, where 
to find any article we may have occasion for, if it be in our 
possession; and the search is confined within reasonable limits, 
instead of being allowed to wander at random amidst a chaos of 
particulars. 

&3T Or, to take an instance still more immediately applicable to 
our purpose : suppose that a man of letters were to record, in a 
common-place book, without any method, all the various ideas and 
facts which occurred to him in the course of his studies; what dif¬ 
ficulties would he perpetually experience in applying his acquisi¬ 
tions to use ? and how completely and easily might these difficulties 
be obviated by referring the particulars of his information to certain 
general heads ? It is obvious, too, that, by doing so, he would not 
only have his knowledge much more completely under his com¬ 
mand, but as the particulars classed together would all have some 
connexion, more or less, with each other, he would be enabled to 
trace, with advantage, those mutual relations among his ideas, 
which it is the object of philosophy to ascertain. 

&P” A common-place hook, conducted without any method, is an 
exact picture of the memory of a man whose inquiries are not 
directed by philosophy. And the advantages of order in treasuring 
up our ideas in the mind, are perfectly analogous to its effects 
when they.are recorded in writing. 

Nor is this all. In order to retain our knowledge distinctly and 
permanently, it is necessary that we should frequently recall it to 
our recollection. But how can this be done without the aid of 
arrangement? Or supposing that it were.possible, how much time 
and labour would be necessary for bringing under our review the 
various particulars of which our information is composed ? In 
proportion as it is properly systematised, this time and labour are 
abridged. The mind dwells habitually, not on detached facts, but 
on a comparatively small number of general principles ; and, by 
means of these, it can summon up, as occasions may require, an 
infinite number of particulars associated with them; each of which, 
considered as a solitary truth, would have been as burthensome to 
the memory, as the general principle with which it is connected. 

I would not wish it to be understood from these observations, 
that philosophy consists in classification alone; and that its only 
use is to assist the memory. I have often, indeed, heard this 


230 


PART 


CHAP. VII. 


asserted in general terms; but it appears to me to be obvious, that 
although this be one of its most important uses, yet something 
more is necessary to complete the definition of it. Were the case 
otherwise, it would follow, that all classifications are equally phi¬ 
losophical, provided they are equally comprehensive. The very 
great importance of this subject, will, I hope, be a sufficient apo¬ 
logy for me, in taking this opportunity to correct some mistaken 
opinions which have been formed concerning it. 

IV. Aid which the Memory derives from Philosophical Arrange¬ 
ment .—It was before observed, that [the great use of the faculty of 
memory, is to enable us to treasure up, for the future regulation of 
our conduct, the results of our past experience, and of our past 
reflections.] But in every case in which we judge of the future 
from the past, we must proceed on the belief, that there is, in the 
course of events, a certain degree, at least, of uniformity. And, 
accordingly, this belief is not only justified by experience, but (as 
Dr. Reid has shown, in a very satisfactory manner)-, it forms a part 
of the original constitution of the human mind. In the general 
laws of the material world, this uniformity is found to be complete; 
insomuch that, in the same combinations of circumstances, we 
expect, with the most perfect assurance, that the same results will 
take place. In the moral world, the course of events does not appear 
to be equally regular; but still it is regular, to so great a degree, 
as to afford us many rules of importance in the conduct of life. 

A knowledge of nature, in so far as it is absolutely necessary for 
the preservation of our animal existence, is obtruded on us, with¬ 
out any reflection on our part, from our earliest infancy. It is 
thus that children learn of themselves to accommodate their con¬ 
duct to the established laws of the material world. In doing so, 
they are guided merely by memory, and the instinctive principle 
of anticipation, which has just been mentioned. 

In forming conclusions concerning future events, the philoso¬ 
pher, as well as the infant, can only build with safety on past 
experience; and he, too, as well as the infant, proceeds on an 
instinctive belief, for which he is unable to account, of the uni¬ 
formity of the laws of nature. There are, however, two important 
respects, which distinguish the knowledge he possesses from that 
of ordinary men. In the first place, it is far more extensive, in 
consequence of the assistance which science gives to his natural 
powers of invention and discovery. Secondly, it is not only more 
easily retained in the memory, and more conveniently applied to 
use, in consequence of the manner in which his ideas are arranged : 
but it enables him to ascertain, by a process of reasoning, all those 
truths which may be synthetically deduced from his general prin¬ 
ciples. The illustration of these particulars will lead to some 
useful remarks; and will at the same time show, that, in discussing 
the subject of this section, I have not lost sight of the inquiry 
which occasioned it. 


OF MEMORY. 


231 

I. (1.) It was already remarked, that the natural powers of 
memory, together with that instinctive anticipation of the future 
from the past, which forms one of the original principles of the 
mind, are sufficient to enable infants, after a very short experience, 
to preserve their animal existence. The laws of nature, which it 
is not so important for us to know, and which are the objects of 
philosophical curiosity, are not so obviously exposed to our view, 
but are, in general, brought to light by means of experiments 
which are made for the purpose of discovery; or, in other words, 
by artificial combinations of circumstances, which we have no 
opportunity of seeing conjoined in the course of our ordinary 
experience. In this manner it is evident, that many connexions 
may be ascertained, which would never have occurred sponta¬ 
neously to our observation. 

(2.) There are, too, some instances, particularly in the case of 
the astronomical phenomena, in which events, that appear to com¬ 
mon observers to be altogether anomalous, are found, upon a more 
accurate and continued examination of them, to be subjected to a 
regular law. Such are those phenomena in the heavens, which 
we are able to predict by means of cycles. In the cases formerly 
described, our knowledge of nature is extended by placing her in 
new situations. In these cases, it is extended by continuing our 
observations beyond the limits of ordinary curiosity. 

(3.) In the case of human affairs, as long as we confine our atten¬ 
tion to particulars, we do not observe the same uniformity, as in 
the phenomena of the material world. When, however, we extend 
our views to events which depend on a combination of different 
circumstances, such a degree of uniformity appears, as enables us 
to establish general rules, from which probable conjectures may 
often be formed with respect to futurity. It is thus, that we can 
pronounce, with much greater confidence, concerning the propor¬ 
tion of deaths which shall happen in a certain period among a given 
number of men, than we can predict the death of any individual; 
and that it is more reasonable to employ our sagacity, in speculating 
concerning the probable determinations of a numerous society, than 
concerning events which depend on the will of a single person. 

In what manner this uniformity in events depending on contin¬ 
gent circumstances is produced, I shall not inquire at present. 
The advantages which we derive from it are obvious, as it enables 
us to collect, from our past experience, many general rules, both 
with respect to the history of political societies, and the characters 
and conduct of men in private life. 

(4.) In the last place ; the knowledge of the philosopher is more 
extensive than that of other men, in consequence of the attention 
which he gives, not merely to objects and events, but to the rela¬ 
tions which different objects and different events bear to each other. 

The observations and the experience of the vulgar are almost 
wholly limited to things perceived by the senses. A similarity 


232 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


between different objects, or between different events, rouses their 
curiosity, and leads them to classification, and to general rules. 
But a similarity between different relations, is seldom to be traced 
without previous habits of philosophical inquiry. Many such simi¬ 
larities or connexions, however, are to be found in nature: and 
when once they are ascertained, they frequently lead to important 
discoveries; not only with respect to other relations, but with 
respect to the objects or to the events which are related. These 
remarks it will be necessary to illustrate more particularly. 

The great object of geometry is to ascertain the relations which 
exist between different quantities, and the connexions which exist 
between different relations. When we demonstrate, that the angle 
at the centre of a circle is double of the angle at the circumference 
on the same base, we ascertain a relation between two quantities. 
When we demonstrate, that triangles of the same altitude are to 
each other as their bases, we ascertain a connexion between two 
relations. It is obvious, how much the mathematical sciences 
must contribute to enlarge our knowledge of the universe, in con¬ 
sequence of such discoveries. In that simplest of all processes of 
practical geometry, which teaches us to measure the height of an 
accessible tower, by comparing the length of its shadow with that 
of a staff fixed vertically in the ground, we proceed on the prin¬ 
ciple, that the relation between the shadow of the staff and the 
height of the staff is the same with the relation between the shadow 
of the tower and the height of the tower. But the former relation 
we can ascertain by actual measurement; and, of consequence, we 
not only obtain the other relation; but, as we can measure one of 
the related quantities, we obtain also the other quantity. In every 
case in which mathematics assists us in measuring the magnitudes 
or the distances of objects, it proceeds on the same principle; that 
is, it begins with ascertaining, connexions among different relations, 
and thus enables us to carry our inquiries from facts which are 
exposed to the examination of our senses, to the most remote parts 
of the universe. 

I observed also, that there are various relations existing among 
physical events, and various connexions existing among these rela¬ 
tions. It is owing to this circumstance, that mathematics is so use¬ 
ful an instrument in the hands of the physical inquirer. In that 
beautiful theorem of Huygens, which demonstrates, that the time 
of a complete oscillation of a pendulum in the cycloid, is to the time 
in which a body would fall through the axis of the cycloid, as the 
circumference of a circle is to its diameter, we are made acquainted 
with a very curious and unexpected connexion between two rela¬ 
tions ; and the knowledge of this connexion facilitates the determi¬ 
nation of a most important fact with respect to the descent of heavy 
bodies near the earth’s surface, which could not be ascertained con¬ 
veniently by a direct experiment. 

In examining with attention the relations among different phy* 


OF MEMORY. 


233 

sical events, and the connexions among different relations, we 
sometimes are led by mere induction to the discovery of a general 
law, while, to ordinary observers, nothing appears but irregularity. 
From the writings of the earlier opticians we learn, that, in ex¬ 
amining the first principles of dioptrics, they were led, by the 
analogy of the law of reflection, to search for the relation between 
the angles of incidence and refraction, (in the case of light pass¬ 
ing from one medium into another,) in the angles themselves ; and 
that some of them, finding this inquiry unsuccessful, took the 
trouble to determine, by experiments, (in the case of the media 
which most frequently fall under consideration,) the angle of re¬ 
fraction corresponding to every minute of incidence. Some very 
laborious tables, deduced from such experiments, are to be found 
in the works of Kircher. At length Snellius discovered what is 
now called the law of refraction, which comprehends their whole 
contents in a single sentence. 

The law of the planetary motions, deduced by Kepler, from the 
observations of Tycho Brahe, is another striking illustration of 
the order, which an attentive inquirer is sometimes able to trace, 
among the relations of physical events, when the events themselves 
appear, on a superficial view, to be perfectly anomalous. 

Such laws are, in some respects, analogous to the cycles which I 
have already mentioned; but they differ from them in this, that a 
cycle is, commonly, deduced from observations made on physical 
events which are obvious to the senses ; whereas the laws we have 
now been considering are deduced from an examination of relations 
which are known only to men of science. The most celebrated 
astronomical cycles, accordingly, are of a very remote antiquity, 
and were probably discovered at a period when the study of astro¬ 
nomy consisted merely in accumulating and recording the more 
striking appearances of the heavens. 

II. Having now endeavoured to show how much philosophy con¬ 
tributes to extend our knowledge of facts, by aiding our natural 
powers of invention and discovery, I proceed to explain in what 
manner it supersedes the necessity of studying particular truths, by 
putting us in possession of a comparatively small number of general 
principles in which they are involved. 

I already remarked the assistance which philosophy gives to the 
memory, in consequence of the arrangement it introduces among 
our ideas. In this respect, even a hypothetical theory may facili¬ 
tate the recollection of facts, in the same manner in which the 
memory is aided in remembering the objects of natural history by 
artificial classifications. 

The advantages, however, we derive from true philosophy, are 
incomparably greater than what are to be expected from any hypo¬ 
thetical theories. These, indeed, may assist us in recollecting the 
particulars we are already acquainted with; but it is only from the 
laws of nature, which have been traced analytically from facts, that 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


234 


we can venture, with safety, to deduce consequences by reasoning 
a priori . An example will illustrate and confirm this observation. 

1®“ Suppose that a glass tube, thirty inches long, is filled with 
mercury, excepting eight inches, and is inverted as in the Torri¬ 
cellian experiment, so that the eight inches of common air may rise 
to the top; and that I wish to know at what height the mercury 
will remain suspended in the tube, the barometer being at that 
time twenty-eight inches high. There is here a combination of 
different laws, which it is necessary to attend to, in order to be able 
to predict the result. 1. The air is a heavy fluid, and the pressure 
of the atmosphere is measured by the column of mercury in the 
barometer. 2. The air is an elastic fluid, and its elasticity at the 
earth’s surface (as it resists the pressure of the atmosphere) is mea¬ 
sured by the column of mercury in the barometer. 3. In different 
states, the elastic force of the air is reciprocally as the spaces which 
it occupies. But, in this experiment, the mercury which remains 
suspended in the tube, together with the elastic force of the air in 
the top of the tube, is a counterbalance to the pressure of the atmo¬ 
sphere ; and therefore their joint effect must be equal to the pres¬ 
sure of a column of mercury twenty-eight inches high. Hence we 
obtain an algebraical equation, which affords an easy solution of 
the problem. It is further evident, that my knowledge of the phy¬ 
sical laws which are here combined, puts it in my power to foretel 
the result, not only in this case, but in all the cases of a similar 
nature which can be supposed. The problem, in any particular 
instance, might be solved by making the experiment; but the 
result would be of no use to me if the slightest alteration were 
made on the data. 

It is in this manner that philosophy, by putting us in possession 
of a few general facts, enables us to determine, by reasoning, what 
will be the result of any supposed combination of them, and thus to 
comprehend an infinite variety of particulars, which no memory, 
however vigorous, would have been able to retain. In consequence 
of the knowledge of such general facts, the philosopher is relieved 
from the necessity of treasuring up in his mind all those truths 
which are involved in his principles, and which may be deduced 
from them by reasoning ; and he can often prosecute his discoveries 
synthetically in those parts of the universe which he has no access 
to examine by immediate observation. There is, therefore, this 
important difference between the hypothetical theory and a theory 
obtained by induction; that the latter not only enables us to re¬ 
member the facts we already know, but to ascertain, by reasoning, 
many facts which we have never had an opportunity of examining: 
whereas when we reason from an hypothesis a priori, we are almost 
certain of running into error; and, consequently, whatever may be 
its use to the memory, it can never be trusted to in judging of cases 
which have not previously fallen within our experience. 

There are some sciences, in which hypothetical theories are more 


OF MEMORY. 


235 


useful than in others ; those sciences, to wit, in which we have occa¬ 
sion for an extensive knowledge and a ready recollection of facts, 
and which, at the same time, are yet in too imperfect a state to allow 
us to obtain just theories by the method of induction. This is par¬ 
ticularly the case in the science of medicine, in which we are under 
a necessity to apply our knowledge, such as it is, to practice. It is 
also, in some degree, the case in agriculture. In the merely specu¬ 
lative parts of physic and chemistry, we may go on patiently accu¬ 
mulating facts, without forming any one conclusion, farther than our 
facts authorise us: and leave to posterity the credit of establishing 
the theory to which our labours are subservient. But in medicine, 
in which it is of consequence to have our knowledge at command, 
it seems reasonable to think, that hypothetical theories may be used 
with advantage; provided always, that they are considered merely 
in the light of artificial memories, and that the student is prepared to 
lay them aside, or to correct them, in proportion as his knowledge 
of nature becomes more extensive. I am, indeed, ready to confess, 
that this is a caution which it is more easy to give than to follow: 
for it is painful to change any of our habits of arrangement, and to 
relinquish those systems in which we have been educated, and which 
have long flattered us with an idea of our own wisdom. Dr. Gre¬ 
gory mentions (Lectures on the Duties and Qualifications of a Phy¬ 
sician) it as a striking and distinguishing circumstance in the 
character of Sydenham, that, although full of hypothetical reason¬ 
ing, it did not render him the less attentive to observation; and that 
his hypotheses seem to have sat so loosely about him, that either 
they did not influence his practice at all, or he could easily abandon 
them, whenever they would not bend to his experience. 

V. Effects produced on the Memory hy committing to Writing our 
acquired Knowledge. —Having treated at considerable length of the 
improvement of memory, it may not be improper, before leaving 
this part of the subject, to consider what effects are likely to be 
produced on the mind by the practice of committing to writing our 
acquired knowledge. [That such a practice is unfavourable, in 
some respects, to the faculty of memory, by superseding, to a cer¬ 
tain degree, the necessity of its exertions, has been often remarked, 
and I believe is true; but the advantages with which it is attended 
in other respects, are so important, as to overbalance greatly this 
trifling inconvenience.] 

It is not my intention at present to examine and compare toge¬ 
ther the different methods which have been proposed, of keeping 
a common-place book. In this, as in other cases of a similar kind, 
it may be difficult, perhaps, or impossible, to establish any rules 
which will apply universally. Individuals must be left to judge for 
theipselves, and to adapt their contrivances to the particular nature 
of their literary pursuits, and to their own peculiar habits of asso¬ 
ciation and arrangement. The remarks which I am to offer are 
very general, and are intended merely to illustrate a few of the 


236 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


advantages which the art of writing affords to the philosopher, for 
recording, in the course of his progress through life, the results of 
his speculations, and the fruits of his experience. 

The utility of writing, in enabling one generation to transmit its 
discoveries to another, and in thus giving rise to a gradual progress 
in the species, has been sufficiently illustrated by many authors. 
Little attention, however, has been paid to another of its effects, 
which is no less important; I mean to the foundation which it lays 
for a perpetual progress in the intellectual powers of the individual. 

It is to experience, and to our own reflections, that we are in¬ 
debted for by far the most valuable part of our knowledge; and 
hence it is, that although in youth the imagination may be more 
vigorous, and the genius more original, than in advanced years ; 
yet, in the case of a man of observation and inquiry, the judgment 
may be expected, at least as long as his faculties remain in per¬ 
fection, to become every day sounder and more enlightened. It is, 
however, only by the constant practice of writing, that the results 
of our experience, and the progress of our ideas, can be accu¬ 
rately recorded. If they are trusted merely to the memory, they 
will gradually vanish from it like a dream, or will come in time to 
be so blended with the suggestions of imagination, that we shall not 
be able to reason from them with any degree of confidence. What 
improvements in science might we not flatter ourselves with the 
hopes of accomplishing, had we only activity and industry to trea¬ 
sure up every plausible hint that occurs to us ! Hardly a day 
passes, when many such do not occur to ourselves, or are suggested 
by others; and detached and insulated as they may appear at pre¬ 
sent, some of them may perhaps afterwards, at the distance of years, 
furnish the key-stone of an important system. 

But it is not only in this point of view that the philosopher 
derives advantage from the practice of writing. Without its 
assistance he could seldom be able to advance beyond those simple 
elementary truths which are current in the world, and which form, 
in the various branches of science, the established creed of the age 
he lives in. How inconsiderable would have been the progress of 
mathematicians, in their more abstruse speculations, without the 
aid of the algebraical notation; and to what sublime discoveries 
have they been led by this beautiful contrivance, which, by relieving 
the memory of the effort necessary for recollecting the steps of a 
long investigation, has enabled them to prosecute an infinite variety 
of inquiries, to which the unassisted powers of the human mind 
would have been altogether unequal! In the other sciences, it is 
true, we have seldom or never occasion to follow out such long 
chains of consequences as in mathematics; but in these sciences, if 
the chain of investigation be shorter, it is far more difficult to make 
the transition from one link to another; and it is only by dwelling 
long on our ideas, and rendering them perfectly familiar to us, that 
such transitions can, in most instances, be made with safety. In 


OF MEMORY. 


237 

morals and politics, when we advance a step beyond those element¬ 
ary truths which are daily presented to us in books or conversation, 
there is no method of rendering our conclusions familiar to us, but 
by committing them to writing, and making them frequently the 
subjects of our meditation. When we have once done so, these 
conclusions become elementary truths with respect to us ; and we 
may advance from them with confidence to others which are more 
remote, and which are far beyond the reach of vulgar discovery. 
By following such a plan, we can hardly fail to have our industry 
rewarded in due time by some important improvement; and it is 
only by such a plan that we can reasonably hope to extend con¬ 
siderably the boundaries of human knowledge. I do not say that 
these habits of study are equally favourable to brilliancy of con¬ 
versation. On the contrary, I believe that those men who possess 
this accomplishment in the highest degree, are such as do not 
advance beyond elementary truths; or rather, perhaps, who advance 
only a single step beyond them; that is, who think a little more 
deeply than the vulgar, but whose conclusions are not so far 
removed from common opinions, as to render it necessary for them, 
when called upon to defend them, to exhaust the patience of their 
hearers, by stating a long train of intermediate ideas. They who 
have pushed their inquiries much farther than the common systems 
of their times, and have rendered familiar to their own minds the 
intermediate steps by which they have been led to their conclusions, 
are too apt to conceive other men to be in the same situation with 
themselves; and when they mean to instruct, are mortified to find 
that they are only regarded as paradoxical and visionary. It is 
but rarely we find a man of very splendid and various conversation 
to be possessed of a profound judgment, or of great originality of 
genius. 

Nor is it merely to the philosopher, who wishes to distinguish 
himself by his discoveries, that writing affords an useful instrument 
of study. Important assistance may be derived from it by all those 
who wish to impress on their minds the investigations which occur 
to them in the course of their reading; for [although writing may 
weaken, as I already acknowledged it does, a memory for detached 
observations, or for insulated facts, it will be found the only effectual 
method of fixing in it permanently, those acquisitions which involve 
long processes of reasoning.] 

When we are employed in inquiries of our own, the conclusions 
which we form make a much deeper and more lasting impression 
on the memory, than any knowledge which we imbibe passively 
from another. This is undoubtedly owing, in part, to the effect 
which the ardour of discovery has, in rousing the activity of the 
mind, and in fixing its attention; but I apprehend it is chiefly to 
be ascribed to this, that when we follow out a train of thinking of 
our own, our ideas are arranged in that order which is most agree¬ 
able to our prevailing habits of association. The only method of 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


238 


putting our acquired knowledge on a level, in this respect, with 
our original speculations, is, after making ourselves acquainted with 
our author’s ideas, to study the subject over again in our own way; 
to pause, from time to time, in the course of our reading, in order 
to consider what we have gained; to recollect what the propositions 
are, which the author wishes to establish, and to examine the 
different proofs which he employs to support them. In making- 
such an experiment, we commonly find, that the different steps of 
the process arrange themselves in our minds, in a manner different 
from that in which the author has stated them; and that, while his 
argument seems, in some places, obscure, from its conciseness, it is 
tedious in others, from being unnecessarily expanded. When we 
have reduced the reasoning to that form which appears to ourselves 
to be the most natural and satisfactory, we may conclude with cer¬ 
tainty, not that this form is better in itself than another, but that 
it is the best adapted to our memory. Such reasonings, therefore, 
as we have occasion frequently to apply, either in the business of 
life, or in the course of our studies, it is of importance to us to 
commit to writing, in a language and in an order of our own ; and 
if, at any time, we find it necessary to refresh our recollection on 
the subject, to have recourse to our own composition, in preference 
to that of any other author. 

That the plan of reading which is commonly followed is very 
different from that which I have been recommending, will not be 
disputed. Most people read merely to pass an idle hour, or to 
please themselves with the idea of employment, while their indo¬ 
lence prevents them from any active exertion; and a considerable 
number with a view to the display which they are afterwards to 
make of their literary acquisitions. From whichsoever of these 
motives a person is led to the perusal of books, it is hardly possible 
that he can derive from them any material advantage. If he reads 
merely from indolence, the ideas which pass through his mind will 
probably leave little or no impression; and if he reads from vanity, 
he will be more anxious to select striking particulars in the matter 
or expression, than to seize the spirit and scope of the author’s 
reasoning, or to examine how far he has made any additions to the 
stock of useful and solid knowledge. “ Though it is scarce pos¬ 
sible,” says Dr. Butler, (see the preface to his Sermons,) “ to avoid 
judging, in some way or other, of almost everything which offers 
itself to one’s thoughts, yet it is certain that many persons, from 
different causes, never exercise their judgment upon what comes 
before them, in such a manner as to be able to determine how far 
it be conclusive. They are perhaps entertained with some things, 
not so with others ; they like, and they dislike ; but whether that 
which is proposed to be made out, be really made out or not; 
whether a matter be stated according to the real truth of the case, 
seems, to the generality of people, a circumstance of little or no 
importance. Arguments are often wanted for some accidental 


OF MEMORY. 


239 

purpose; but proof, as sucb, is what they never want, for their own 
satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Not to mention the multi- 
tudes who read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify them¬ 
selves for the world, or some such kind of reasons, there are even 
of the few who read for their own entertainment, and have a real 
curiosity to see what is said, several, which is astonishing, who 
have no sort of curiosity to see what is true : I say curiosity, because 
it is too obvious to be mentioned how much that religious and 
sacred attention which is due to truth, and to the important ques¬ 
tion, what is the rule of life, is lost out of the world. 

“For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are of 
different capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from 
different occasions, I have often wished that it had been the custom 
to lay before people nothing in matters of argument but premises, 
and leave them to draw conclusions themselves; which, although 
it could not be done in all cases, might in many. 

“ The great number of books and papers of amusement, which, 
of one kind or another, daily come in one’s way, have in part occa¬ 
sioned, and most perfectly fall in with and humour, this idle way of 
reading and considering things. By this means, time, even in 
solitude, is happily got rid of without the pain of attention: neither 
is any part of it more put to the account of idleness, (one can scarce 
forbear saying, is spent with less thought,) than great part of that 
which is spent in reading.” 

If the plan of study which I formerly described were adopted, it 
would undoubtedly diminish very much the number of books which 
it would be possible to turn over ; but I am convinced that it would 
add greatly to the stock of useful and solid knowledge; and by 
rendering our acquired ideas in some measure our own, would give 
us a more ready and practical command of them : not to mention, 
that if we are possessed of any inventive powers, such exercises 
would continually furnish them with an opportunity of displaying 
themselves upon all the different subjects which may pass under 
our review. 

Nothing, in truth, has such a tendency to weaken, not only the 
powers of invention, but the intellectual powers in general, as a 
habit of extensive and various reading, without reflection. The 
activity and force of the mind are gradually impaired, in conse¬ 
quence of disuse; and not unfrequently all our principles and 
opinions come to be lost, in the infinite multiplicity and discord¬ 
ancy of our acquired ideas. 

By confining our ambition to pursue the truth with modesty and 
candour, and learning to value our acquisitions only as far as they 
contribute to make us wiser and happier, we may perhaps be obliged 
to sacrifice the temporary admiration of the common dispensers of 
literary fame ; but we may rest assured, that it is in this way only 
we can hope to make real progress in knowledge, or to enrich the 
world with useful inventions. 


240 


PART I. 


CHAP. vn. 


{t It requires courage, indeed,” as Helvetius has remarked, “ to 
remain ignorant of those useless subjects which are generally 
valued but it is a courage necessary to men who either love the 
truth, or who aspire to establish a permanent reputation. 

VI. Of Artificial Memory—[ By an artificial memory is meant, 
a method of connecting in the mind, things difficult to be remem¬ 
bered, with things easily remembered; so as to enable it to retain, 
and to recollect the former, by means of the latter.] For this pur¬ 
pose, various contrivances have been proposed, but I think the 
foregoing definition applies to all of them. 

Some sorts of artificial memory are intended to assist the natural 
powers of the human mind on particular occasions, which require 
a more than ordinary effort of recollection ; for example, to assist 
a public speaker to recollect the arrangement of a long discourse. 
Others have been devised with a view to enable us to extend the 
circle of our acquired knowledge, and to give us a more ready 
command of all the various particulars of our information. 

The topical memory so much celebrated among the ancient 
rhetoricians, comes under the former description. 

I already remarked, the effect of sensible objects in recalling to 
the mind the ideas with which it happened to be occupied, at the 
time when these objects were formerly perceived. In travelling 
along a road, the sight of the more remarkable scenes we meet with, 
frequently puts us in mind of the subjects we were thinking or 
talking of when we last saw them. Such facts, which are perfectly 
familiar even to the vulgar, might very naturally suggest the possi¬ 
bility of assisting the memory, by establishing a connexion between 
the ideas we wish to remember, and certain sensible objects, which 
have been found from experience to make a permanent impression 
on the mind.* I have been told of a young woman, in a very 

low rank of life, who contrived a method of committing to memory 
the sermons which she was accustomed. to hear, by fixing her 
attention, during the different heads of the discourse, on different 
compartments of the roof of the church, in such a manner, as that 
when she afterwards saw the roof, or recollected the order in which 
its compartments were disposed, she recollected the method which 
the preacher had observed in treating his subject. This con¬ 
trivance was perfectly analogous to the topical memory of the 
ancients; an art which, whatever be the opinion we entertain of 
its use, is certainly entitled, in a high degree, to the praise of 
ingenuity. 

Suppose that I were to fix in my memory the different apart- 

* “ Cum in loca aliqua post tempus reversi sumus, non ipsa agnoscimus tantum, 
sed etiam, quae in his fecerimus, reminiscimur, personseque subeunt, nonnunquam 
tacitae quoque cogitationes in mentem revertuntur. Nata est igitur,ut in plerisque, 
ars ab experimento.”—Quinct. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2.—[When we return to 
particular places after a time, we not only recognise them, but recollect also what we 
have done in them, even persons recur to us, sometimes also unexpressed thoughts re¬ 
enter our minds. Therefore, as is usually the case, the art resulted from experience.] 


OF MEMORY. 


241 

merits in some very large building, and that I had accustomed 
myself to think of these apartments always in the same invariable 
order. Suppose farther, that in preparing myself for a public 
discourse, in which I had occasion to treat of a great variety of 
particulars, I was anxious to fix in my memory the order I pro¬ 
posed to observe in the communication of my ideas. It is evident, 
that by a proper division of my subject into heads, and by con¬ 
necting each head with a particular apartment, (which I could 
easily do, by conceiving myself to be sitting in the apartment while 
I was studying the part of my discourse I meant to connect with 
it,) the habitual order in which these apartments occurred to my 
thoughts, would present to me, in their proper arrangement, and 
without any effort on my part, the ideas of which I was to treat. 
It is also obvious, that a very little practice would enable me to 
avail myself of this contrivance, without any embarrassment or 
distraction of my attention.! 

As to the utility of this art, it appears to me to depend entirely 
on the particular object which we suppose the speaker to have in 
view; whether, as was too often the case with the ancient rhetori¬ 
cians, to bewilder a judge, and to silence an adversary; or fairly 
and candidly to lead an audience to the truth. On the former 
supposition, nothing can possibly give an orator a greater superi¬ 
ority, than the possession of a secret which, while it enables him 
to express himself with facility and the appearance of method, 
puts it in his power, at the same time, to dispose his arguments and 
his facts in whatever order he judges to be the most proper to 
mislead the judgment, and to perplex the memory, of those whom 
he addresses. And such, it is manifest, is the effect, not only of 
the topical memory of the ancients, but of all other contrivances 
which aid the recollection, upon any principle different from the 
natural and logical arrangement of-our ideas. 

To those, on the other hand, who speak with a view to convince 
or to inform others, it is of consequence that the topics which they 
mean to illustrate, should be arranged in an order equally favour¬ 
able to their own recollection and to that of their hearers. For 
this purpose, nothing is effectual but that method which is sug¬ 
gested by the order of their own investigations; a method which 
leads the mind from one idea to another, either by means of 
obvious and striking associations, or by those relations which 
connect the different steps of a clear and accurate process of rea¬ 
soning. It is thus only that the attention of an audience can be 

f In so far as it was the object of this species of artificial memory to assist an 
orator in recollecting the plan and arrangement of his discourse, the accounts of 
it which are given by the ancient rhetoricians are abundantly satisfactory. It 
appears, however, that its use was more extensive ; and that it was so contrived, as 
to facilitate the recollection of a premeditated composition. In what manner this 
was done, it is not easy to conjecture from the imperfect explanations of the art 
which have been transmitted to modern times. The reader may consult Cicero de 
Orat. lib. ii. cap. 87, 88. ; Rhetor, ad Herennium, lib. iii. cap. 16, et seq. ; Quinct. 
Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2. 


242 


PART I. 


CHAP, vir- 


completely and incessantly engaged, and that the substance of a 
long discourse can be remembered without effort. And it is thus 
only that a speaker, after a mature consideration of his subject, 
can possess a just confidence in his own powers of recollection, in 
stating all the different premises which lead to the conclusion he 
wishes to establish. 

In modern times, such contrivances have been very little, if at 
all, made use of by public speakers; but various ingenious attempts 
have been made to assist the memory in acquiring and retaining 
those branches of knowledge which it has been supposed necessary 
for a scholar to carry always about with him; and which, at the 
same time, from the number of particular details which they 
involve, are not calculated, of themselves, to make a very lasting 
impression on the mind. Of this sort is the Memoria Technica of 
Mr. Grey, in which a great deal of historical, chronological, and 
geographical knowledge is comprised in a set of verses, which the 
student is supposed to make as familiar to himself as school-boys 
do the rules of grammar. These verses are, in general, a mere 
assemblage of proper names, disposed in a rude sort of measure; 
some slight alterations being occasionally made on the final syllables 
of the words, so as to be significant (according to certain principles 
laid down in the beginning of the work) of important dates, or of 
other particulars which it appeared to the author useful to associate 
with the names. 

I have heard very opposite opinions with respect to the utility of 
this ingenious system. The prevailing opinion is, I believe, against 
it; although it has been mentioned in terms of high approbation 
by some writers of eminence. Dr. Priestley, whose judgment, in 
matters of this sort, is certainly entitled to respect, has said, that 
" it is a method so easily learned, and which may be of so much 
use in recollecting dates, when other methods are not at hand, 
that he thinks all persons of a liberal education inexcusable, who 
will not take the small degree of pains that is necessary to make 
themselves masters of it; or who think anything mean, or unwor¬ 
thy of their notice, which is so useful and convenient.” (Lectures 
on History, p. 157.) 

In judging of the utility of this, or of any other contrivance of 
the same kind, to a particular person, a great deal must depend on 
the species of memory which he has received from nature, or has 
acquired in the course of his early education. Some men, as I 
already remarked, (especially among those who have been habitually 
exercised in childhood in getting by heart grammar rules,) have an 
extraordinary facility in acquiring and retaining the most barbarous 
and the most insignificant verses ; which another person would find 
as difficult to remember, as the geographical and chronological 
details of which it is the object of this art to relieve the memory. 
Allowing, therefore, the general utility of the art, no one method, 
perhaps, is entitled to an exclusive preference; as one contrivance 


OF MEMORY. 243 

may be best suited to the faculties of one person, and a very different 
one to those of another. 

One important objection applies to all of them, that they accustom 
the mind to associate ideas by accidental and arbitrary connexions ; 
and, therefore, how much soever they may contribute, in the course 
of conversation, to an ostentatious display of acquired knowledge, 
they are, perhaps, of little real service to us, when we are seriously 
engaged in the pursuit of truth. I own, too, I am very doubtful 
with respect to the utility of a great part of that information which 
they are commonly employed to impress on the memory, and on 
which the generality of learned men are disposed to value them¬ 
selves. It certainly is of no use, but in so far as it is subservient to 
the gratification of their vanity ; and the acquisition of it consumes 
a great deal of time and attention, which might have been employed 
in extending the boundaries of human knowledge. To those, how¬ 
ever, who are of a different opinion, [such contrivances as Mr. 
Grey’s may be extremely useful: and to all men they may be of 
service, in fixing in the memory those insulated and uninteresting 
particulars which it is either necessary for them to be acquainted 
with, from their situation, or which custom has rendered, in the 
common opinion, essential branches of a liberal education.] I 
would, in particular, recommend this author’s method of recollecting 
dates, by substituting letters for the numeral cyphers ; and forming 
these letters into words, and the words into verses. I have found 
it, at least, in my own case, the most effectual of all such contrivances 
of which I have had experience. 

VII. Importance of making a proper Selection among the objects of 
our Knowledge , in order to derive Advantage from the Acquisitions of 
Memory. —The cultivation of memory, with all the helps that we 
can derive to it from art, will be of little use to us, unless we make 
a proper selection of the particulars to be remembered: Such a 
selection is necessary to enable us to profit by reading; and still 
more so, to enable us to profit by observation, to which every man 
is indebted for by far the most valuable part of his knowledge. 

When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we commonly 
find our efforts of attention painful and unsatisfactory. We have 
no discrimination in our curiosity ; and by grasping at every thing, 
we fail in making those moderate acquisitions which are suited to 
our limited faculties. As our knowledge extends, we learn to know 
what particulars are likely to be of use to us; and acquire a habit 
of directing our examination to these, without distracting the atten¬ 
tion with others. It is partly owing to a similar circumstance, that 
most readers complain of a defect of memory, when they first enter 
on the study of history. They cannot separate important from 
trifling facts, and find themselves unable to retain any thing, from 
their anxiety to secure the whole. 

In order to give a proper direction to our attention in the course 
of our studies, it is useful, before engaging in particular pursuits, 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


244 


to acquire as familiar an acquaintance as possible with the great 
outlines of the different branches of science; with the most im¬ 
portant conclusions which have hitherto been formed in themand 
with the most important desiderata which remain to be supplied. 
In the case too of those parts of knowledge which are not yet ripe 
for the formation of philosophical systems, it may be of use to study 
the various hypothetical theories which have been proposed for 
connecting together and arranging the phenomena. By such 
general views alone we can prevent ourselves from being lost, amidst 
a labyrinth of particulars, or can engage in a course of extensive and 
various reading, with an enlightened and discriminating attention. 
While they withdraw our notice from barren and insulated facts, 
they direct it to such as tend to illustrate principles which have 
either been already established, or which, from having that degree 
of connexion among themselves which is necessary to give plausi¬ 
bility to a hypothetical theory, are likely to furnish, in time, the 
materials of a juster system. 

[Some of the followers of Lord Bacon have, I think, been led, in 
their zeal for the method of induction, to censure hypothetical 
theories with too great a degree of severity. Such theories have 
certainly been frequently of use, in putting philosophers upon the 
road of discovery. Indeed, it has probably been in this way, that 
most discoveries have been made; for although a knowledge of facts 
must be prior to the formation of a just theory, yet a hypothetical 
theory is generally our best guide to the knowledge of useful facts.] 
If a man, without forming to himself any conjecture concerning the 
unknown laws of nature, were to set himself merely to accumulate 
facts at random, he might, perhaps, stumble upon some important 
discovery; but by far the greater part of his labours would be 
wholly useless. Every philosophical inquirer, before he begins a 
set of experiments, has some general principle in his view, which he 
suspects to be a law of nature :* and although his conjectures may 
be often wrong, yet they serve to give his inquiries a particular 
direction, and to bring under his eye a number of facts which have 
a certain relation to each other. It has been often remarked, that 
the attempts to discover the philosopher’s stone, and the quadrature 
of the circle, have led to many useful discoveries in chemistry and 
mathematics. And they have plainly done so, merely by limiting 
the field of observation and inquiry, and checking that indiscrimi¬ 
nate and desultory attention which is so natural to an indolent 
mind. A hypothetical theory, however erroneous, may answer a 


* “ Recte siquidem Plato, ‘Q,ui aliquid quserit, id ipsum, quod quserit, generali 
quadam notione comprehendit : aliter, qui fieri potest, ut illud, cum fuerit inventum, 
aguoscat ? ’ Idcirco quo amplior et certior fuerit anticipatio nostra ; eo magis directa 
et compendiosa erit investigate.”— De Aug. Seient. lib. v. cap. 3.—[Plato indeed 
observes justly, “ he who searches for anything has a general notion of that which he 
seeks, otherwise how could he recognise it when found out.” Therefore in proportion 
as our anticipation is more full and certain, our investigation will be more compen¬ 
dious and direct.] 


OP MEMORY. 


245 


similar purpose. “ Prudens interrogatio,” says Lord Bacon, “ est 
dimidium scientise. Yaga enim experientia et se tantum sequens 
mera palpatio est, et homines potius stupefacit quam informat.”+ 
What, indeed, are Newton’s queries, but so many hypotheses which 
are proposed as subjects of examination to philosophers ? And did 
not even the great doctrine of gravitation take its first rise from 
a fortunate conjecture? 

While, therefore, we maintain, with the followers of Bacon, that 
no theory is to be admitted as proved, any farther than it is sup¬ 
ported by facts, we should, at the same time, acknowledge our 
obligations to those writers who hazard their conjectures to the 
world with modesty and diffidence. And it may not be improper 
to add, that men of a systematizing turn are not now so useless as 
formerly; for we are already possessed of a great stock of facts, 
and there is scarcely any theory so bad as not to bring together a 
number of particulars which have a certain degree of relation or 
analogy to each other. 

The foregoing remarks are applicable to all our various studies; 
whether they are conducted in the way of reading, or of observa¬ 
tion. From neither of these two sources of information can we 
hope to derive much advantage, unless we have some general prin¬ 
ciples to direct our attention to proper objects. 

With respect to observation, some farther cautions may be 
useful; for in guarding against an indiscriminate accumulation of 
particulars, it is possible to fall into the opposite extreme, and to 
acquire a habit of inattention to the phenomena which present 
themselves to our senses. The former is the error of men of little 
education; the latter is more. common among men of retirement 
and study. 

One of the chief effects of a liberal education, is to enable us to 
withdraw the attention from the present objects of our perceptions, 
and to dwell at pleasure on the past, the absent, or the future. 
But when we are led to carry these efforts to an excess, either from 
a warm and romantic imagination, or from an anxious and sanguine 
temper, it is easy to see that the power of observation is likely to 
be weakened, and habits of inattention to be contracted. The 
same effect may be produced by too early an indulgence in philoso¬ 
phical pursuits, before the mind has been prepared for the study of 
general truths, by exercising its faculties among particular objects, 
and particular occurrences. In this way, it contracts an aversion 
to the examination of details, from the pleasure which it has expe¬ 
rienced in the contemplation or in the discovery of general princi¬ 
ples. Both of these turns of thought, however, presuppose a 
certain degree of observation; for the materials of imagination are 
supplied by the senses ; and the general truths which occupy the 
philosopher, would be wholly unintelligible to him, if he was a total 

+ “ Wise interrogation is one half of knowledge, for vague experience following in 
its own path is mere groping, and rather distracts men than instructs them.” 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


246 


stranger to all experience with respect to the course of nature and 
of human life. The observations, indeed, which are made by men 
of a warm imagination, are likely to be inaccurate and fallacious ; 
and those of the speculative philosopher are frequently carried no 
farther than is necessary to enable him to comprehend the terms 
which relate to the subjects of his reasoning; but both the one and 
the other must have looked abroad occasionally at nature, and at 
the world; if not to ascertain facts by actual examination, at least 
to store their minds with ideas. 

The metaphysician, whose attention is directed to the faculties 
and operations of the mind, is the only man who possesses within 
himself the materials of his speculations and reasonings. It is 
accordingly among this class of literary men, that habits of inatten¬ 
tion to things external have been carried to the greatest extreme. 

[It is observed by Dr. Reid, that the power of reflection , (by 
which he means the power of attending to the subjects of our con¬ 
sciousness,) is the last of our intellectual faculties which unfolds 
itself; and that in the greater part of mankind it never unfolds 
itself at all.] It is a power, indeed, which being subservient merely 
to the gratification of metaphysical curiosity, it is not essentially 
necessary for us to possess, in any considerable degree. The power 
of observation, on the other hand, which is necessary for the pre¬ 
servation even of our animal existence, discovers itself in infants long 
before they attain the use of speech ; or rather I should have said, 
as soon as they come into the world; and where nature is allowed 
free scope, it continues active and vigorous through life. It was 
plainly the intention of nature, that in infancy and youth it should 
occupy the mind almost exclusively, and that we should acquire all 
our necessary information before engaging in speculations which 
are less essential: and accordingly this is the history of the intel¬ 
lectual progress in by far the greater number of individuals. In 
consequence of this, the difficulty of metaphysical researches is 
undoubtedly much increased ; for the mind being constantly occu¬ 
pied in the earlier part of life about the properties and laws of 
matter, acquires habits of inattention to the subjects of conscious¬ 
ness, which are not to be surmounted without a degree of patience 
and perseverance of which few men are capable: but the incon¬ 
venience would evidently have been greatly increased, if the order 
of nature had, in this respect, been reversed, and if the curiosity 
had been excited at as early a period, by the phenomena of the 
intellectual world, as by those of the material. Of what would have 
happened on this supposition, we may form a judgment from those 
men who, in consequence of an excessive indulgence in metaphysical 
pursuits, have weakened to an unnatural degree, their capacity of 
attending to external objects and occurrences. Few metaphysicians, 
perhaps, are to be found, who are not deficient in the power of 
observation; for although a taste for such abstract speculations is 
far from being common, it is more apt, perhaps, than any other. 


OF MEMORY. 


247 

when it has once been formed, to take an exclusive hold of the 
mind, and to shut up the other sources of intellectual improvement. 
As the metaphysician carries within himself the materials of his 
reasoning, he is not under a necessity of looking abroad for subjects 
of speculation or amusement; and unless he be very careful to guard 
against the effects of his favourite pursuits, he is in more danger 
than literary men of any other denomination, to lose all interest 
about the common and proper objects of human curiosity. 

To prevent any danger from this quarter, I apprehend that the 
study of the mind should form the last branch of the education of 
youth ; an order which nature herself seems to point out, by what 
I have already remarked, with respect to the development of our 
faculties. After the understanding is well stored with particular 
facts, and has been conversant with particular scientific pursuits, it 
will be enabled to speculate concerning its own powers with 
additional advantage, and will run no hazard of indulging too far in 
such inquiries. Nothing can be more absurd, on this as well as on 
many other accounts, than the common practice which is followed 
in our universities, of beginning a course of philosophical education 
with the study of logic. If this order were completely reversed ; 
and if the study of logic were delayed till after the mind of the stu¬ 
dent was well stored with particular facts in physics, in chemistry, in 
natural and civil history ; his attention might be led with the most 
important advantage, and without any danger to his power of obser¬ 
vation, to an examination of his own faculties; which besides 
opening to him a new and pleasing field of speculation, would enable 
him to form an estimate of his own powers, of the acquisitions he 
has made, of the habits he has formed, and of the farther improve¬ 
ments of which his mind is susceptible. 

In general, wherever habits of inattention, and an incapacity of 
observation, are very remarkable, they will be found to have arisen 
from some defect in early education. I already remarked, that, 
when nature is allowed free scope, the curiosity, during early youth, 
is alive to every external object, and to every external occurrence, 
while the powers of imagination and reflection do not display them¬ 
selves till a much later period; the former till about the age of 
puberty, and the latter till we approach to manhood. It some¬ 
times, however, happens that, in consequence of a peculiar disposi¬ 
tion of mind, or of an infirm bodily constitution, a child is led to 
seek amusement from books, and to lose a relish for those recrea¬ 
tions which are suited to his age. In such instances, the ordinary 
progress of the intellectual powers is prematurely quickened; but 
that best of all educations is lost, which nature has prepared both 
for the philosopher and the man of the world, amidst the active 
sports and the hazardous adventures of childhood. It is from these 
alone, that we can acquire, not only that force of character which 
is suited to the more arduous situations of life, but that complete 
and prompt command of attention to things external, without 


248 


PART I. 


CHAP. VII. 


which the highest endowments of the understanding, however they 
may fit a man for the solitary speculations of the closet, are but of 
little use in the practice of affairs, or for enabling him to profit by 
his personal experience. 

Where, hoAvever, such habits of inattention have unfortunately 
been contracted, we ought not to despair of them as perfectly in¬ 
curable. The attention, indeed, as I formerly remarked, can sel¬ 
dom be forced in particular instances ; but we may gradually learn 
to place the objects we wish to attend to, in lights more interesting 
than those in which we have been accustomed to view them. 
Much may be expected from a change of scene, and a change of 
pursuits ; but above all, much may be expected from foreign travel. 
The objects which we meet with excite our surprise by their 
novelty; and in this manner we not only gradually acquire the 
power of observing and examining them with attention, but, 
from the effects of contrast, the curiosity comes to be roused with 
respect to the corresponding objects in our own country, which, 
from our early familiarity with them, we had formerly been accus¬ 
tomed to overlook. In this respect the effects of foreign travel, in 
directing the attention to familiar objects and occurrences, is some¬ 
what analogous to that which the study of a dead or of a foreign 
language produces, in leading the curiosity to examine the gram¬ 
matical structure of our own. 

Considerable advantage may also be derived, in overcoming the 
habits of inattention which we may have contracted to particular 
subjects, from studying the systems, true or false, which philoso¬ 
phers have proposed for explaining or for arranging the facts con¬ 
nected with them. By means of these systems, not only is the 
curiosity circumscribed and directed, instead of being allowed to 
wander at random, but, in consequence of our being enabled to 
connect facts with general principles, it becomes interested in the 
examination of those particulars which would otherwise have es¬ 
caped our notice. 

VIII. Of the Connexion between Memory and philosophical Genius. 
—It is commonly supposed, that genius is seldom united until a very 
tenacious memory. So far, however, as my own observation has 
reached, I can scarcely recollect one person who possesses the 
former of these qualities, without a more than ordinary share of the 
latter. 

On a superficial view of the subject, indeed, the common opinion 
has some appearance of truth; for, we are naturally led, in conse¬ 
quence of the topics about which conversation is usually em¬ 
ployed, to estimate the extent of memory, by the impression which 
trivial occurrences make upon it: and these in general escape the 
recollection of a man of ability, not because he is unable to retain 
them, but because he does not attend to them.. It is probable 
likewise, that accidental associations, founded on contiguity in time 
and place, may make but a slight impression on his mind. But it 


OF MEMORY. 


249 


does not therefore follow, that his stock of facts is small. They are 
connected together in his memory by principles of association, 
different from those which prevail in ordinary minds; and they are 
on that very account the more useful: for as the associations are 
founded upon real connexions among the ideas, (although they may 
be less conducive to the fluency, and perhaps to the wit of con¬ 
versation,) they are of incomparably greater use in suggesting facts 
which are to serve as a foundation for reasoning or for invention. 

It frequently happens too, that a man of genius, in consequence 
of a peculiarly strong attachment to a particular subject, may first 
feel a want of inclination, and may afterwards acquire a want of 
capacity of attending to common occurrences. But it is probable 
that the whole stock of ideas in his mind, is not inferior to that of 
other men; and that however unprofitably he may have directed 
his curiosity, the ignorance which he discovers on ordinary subjects 
does not arise from a want of memory, but from a peculiarity in the 
selection which he has made of the objects of his study. 

Montaigne* frequently complains in his writings, of his want of 
memory; and he indeed gives many very extraordinary instances of 
his ignorance on some of the most ordinary topics of information. 
But it is obvious to any person who reads his works with attention, 
that this ignorance did not proceed from an original defect of 
memory, but from the singular and whimsical direction which his 
curiosity had taken at an early period of life. “ I can do nothing,” 
says he, “ without my memorandum book; and so great is my 
difficulty in remembering proper names, that I am forced to call 
my domestic servants by their offices. I am ignorant of the greater 
part of our coins in use: of the difference of one grain from another, 
both in the earth and in the granary; what use leaven is of in 
making bread, and why wine must stand some time in the vat be¬ 
fore it ferments.” Yet the same author appears evidently, from 
his writings, to have had his memory stored with an infinite variety 
of apophthegms, and of historical passages, which had struck his 
imagination; and to have been familiarly acquainted, not only with 
the names, but with the absurd and exploded opinions of the 
ancient philosophers; with the ideas of Plato, the atoms of Epi¬ 
curus, the plenum and vacuum of Leucippus and Democritus, the 
water of Thales, the numbers of Pythagoras, the infinite of Par¬ 
menides, and the unity of Musseus. In complaining too of his 
want of presence of mind, he indirectly acknowledges a degree of 
memory, which, if it had been judiciously employed, would have 
been more than sufficient for the acquisition of all those common 
branches of knowledge in which he appears to have been deficient. 

* “ II n’est homme a qui il siese si mal de se mesler de parler de memorie. Car je 
n’en recognoy quasi trace en moy ; et ne pense qu’il y en ait au monde une autre si 
marveilleuse en defaillaince.”—Essais de Montaigne, liv. i. ch. 9.—[There is no man 
whom it so ill becomes to speak of memory as myself, for I may say that I cannot find 
a trace of it in myself, and I do not think that there is in existence another so defective 
in this respect. Montaigne’s Essays.] 


250 


PART J. 


CHAP. VII. 


“ When I have an oration to speak,” says he, “ of any considerable 
length, I am reduced to the miserable necessity of getting it, word 
for word, by heart.” 

The strange and apparently inconsistent combination of know¬ 
ledge and ignorance which the writings of Montaigne exhibit, led 
Malebranche (who seems to have formed too low an opinion both of 
his genius and character) to tax him with affectation; and even to 
call in question the credibility of some of his assertions. But no 
one who is well acquainted with this most amusing author, can 
reasonably suspect his veracity; and, in the present instance, I can 
give him complete credit, not only from my general opinion of his 
sincerity, but from having observed, in the course of my own ex¬ 
perience, more than one example of the same sort of combination; 
not indeed carried to such a length as Montaigne describes, but 
bearing a striking resemblance to it. 

The observations which have already been made, account, in part, 
for the origin of the common opinion, that genius and memory are 
seldom united in great degrees in the same person; and at the 
same time show,»that some of the facts on which that opinion is 
founded, do not justify such a conclusion. Besides these, however, 
there are other circumstances, which at first view seem rather to 
indicate an inconsistency between extensive memory and original 
genius. 

The species of memory which excites the greatest degree of 
admiration in the ordinary intercourse of society, is a memory for 
detached and insulated facts ; and it is certain that those men who 
are possessed of it, are very seldom distinguished by the higher 
gifts of the mind . Such a species of memory is unfavourable to 
philosophical arrangement; because it in part supplies the place of 
arrangement. One great use of philosophy, as I already showed, 
is to give us an extensive command of particular truths, by fur¬ 
nishing us with general principles, under which a number of such 
truths is comprehended. A person in whose mind casual associa¬ 
tions of time and place make a lasting impression, has not the same 
inducements to philosophize, with others who connect facts together, 
chiefly by the relations of cause and effect, or of premises and 
conclusion. I have heard it observed, that those men who have 
risen to the greatest eminence in the profession of law, have been 
in general such as had at first an aversion to the study. The rea¬ 
son probably is, that to a mind fond of general principles, every 
study must b$ at first disgusting, which presents to it a chaos of 
facts apparently unconnected with each other. But this love of 
arrangement, if united with persevering industry, will at last con¬ 
quer every difficulty ; will introduce order into what seemed on a 
superficial view a mass of confusion, and reduce the dry and unin¬ 
teresting detail of positive statutes into a system comparatively 
luminous and beautiful. 

The observation, I believe, may be made more general, and may 


OF MEMORY. 


251 

be applied to every science in which there is a great multiplicity 
of facts to be remembered. A man destitute of genius may, with 
little effort, treasure up in his memory a number of particulars in 
chemistry or natural history, which he refers to no principle, and 
from which he deduces no conclusion; and from his facility in 
acquiring this stock of information, may flatter himself with the 
belief that he possesses a natural taste for these branches of know¬ 
ledge. But they who are really destined to extend the boundaries 
of science, when they first enter on new pursuits, feel their attention 
distracted, and their memory overloaded with facts among which 
they can trace no relation, and are sometimes apt to despair entirely 
of their future progress. In due time, however, their superiority 
appears, and arises in part from that very dissatisfaction which they 
at first experienced, and which does not cease to stimulate their 
inquiries, till they are enabled to trace, amidst a chaos of apparently 
unconnected materials, that simplicity and beauty which always 
characterize the operations of nature. 

There are, besides, other circumstances which retard the progress 
of a man of genius, when he enters on a new pursuit, and which 
sometimes render him apparently inferior to those who are pos¬ 
sessed of ordinary capacity. A want of curiosity,* and of invention, 
facilitates greatly the acquisition of knowledge. It renders the 
mind passive in receiving the ideas of others, and saves all the 
time which might be employed in examining their foundation, or 
in tracing their consequences. They who are possessed of much 
acuteness and originality, enter with difficulty into the views of 
others; not from any defect in their power of apprehension, but be¬ 
cause they cannot adopt opinions which they have not examined; and 
because their attention is often seduced by their own speculations. 

It is not merely in the acquisition of knowledge that a man of 
genius is likely to find himself surpassed by others : he has com¬ 
monly his information much less at command, than those who are 
possessed of an inferior degree of originality ; and, what is some¬ 
what remarkable, he has it least of all at command on those subjects 
on which he has found his invention most fertile. Sir Isaac N ewton, 
as we are told by Dr. Pemberton, was often at a loss when the 
conversation turned on his own discoveries. (See Note T.) It is 
probable that they made but a slight impression on his mind, and 
that a consciousness of his inventive powers prevented him from 
taking much pains to treasure them up in his memory. Men of 
little ingenuity seldom forget the ideas they acquire ; because they 
know that when an occasion occurs for applying their knowledge 
to use, they must trust to memory and not to invention. Explain 
an arithmetical rule to a person of common understanding, who is 
unacquainted with the principles of the science ; he will soon get 

* I mean a want of curiosity about truth. “ There are many men,” says Dr. Butler, 
“ who have a strong curiosity to know what is said, who have little or no curiosity to 
know what is true.” 


252 


PART T. 


CHAP. VII. 


the rule by heart, and become dexterous in the application of it. 
Another of more ingenuity, will examine the principle of the rule 
before he applies it to use, and will scarcely take the trouble to 
commit to memory a process which he knows he can, at any time, 
with a little reflection, recover. The consequence will he, that, in 
the practice of calculation, he will appear more slow and hesitating, 
than if he followed the received rules of arithmetic without reflection 
or reasoning. 

Something of the same kind happens every day in conversation. 
By far the greater part of the opinions we announce in it, are not 
the immediate result of reasoning on the spot, but have been pre¬ 
viously formed in the closet, or perhaps have been adopted implicitly 
on the authority of others. The promptitude, therefore, with which 
a man decides in ordinary discourse, is not a certain test of the 
quickness of his apprehension; * as it may perhaps arise from those 
uncommon efforts to furnish the memory with acquired knowledge, 
by which men of slow parts endeavour to compensate for their want 
of invention; while, on the other hand, it is possible that a con¬ 
sciousness of originality may give rise to a manner apparently 
embarrassed, by leading the person who feels it, to trust too much 
to extempore exertions, f 

In general, I believe, it may be laid down as a rule, that those 
who carry about with them a great degree of acquired information, 
which they have always at command, or who have rendered their 
own discoveries so familiar to them, as always to be in a condition 
to explain them, without recollection, are very seldom possessed of 
much invention, or even of much quickness of apprehension. A 
man of original genius, who is fond of exercising his reasoning 
powers anew on every point as it occurs to him, and who cannot 
submit to rehearse the ideas of others, or to repeat by rote the 
conclusions which he has deduced from previous reflection, often 
appears, to superficial observers, to fall below the level of ordinary 
understandings; while another, destitute both of quickness and 
invention, is admired for that promptitude in his decisions, which 
arises from the inferiority of his intellectual abilities. 

It must indeed be acknowledged in favour of the last description 

* “ Memoria facit prompti ingenii famam, ut ilia quse dicimus, non domo attulisse, 
sed ibi protinus sumpsisse videamur.”— Quinct. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. c. 2.—[Memory 
gives men the character of quickness of mind, so that when we say anything we do not 
seem to have brought it from home, but to have drawn it out on the spot.—Quinetilian, 
Elements of Oratory.] 

t In the foregoing observations it is not meant to be implied, that originality of 
genius is incompatible with a ready recollection of acquired knowledge ; but only that 
it has a tendency unfavourable to it, and that more time and practice will commonlv 
be necessary to familiarise the mind of a man of invention to the ideas of others, or 
even to the conclusions of his own understanding, than are requisite in ordinary cases. 
Habits of literary conversation, and still more, habits of extempore discussion, in a 
popular assembly, are peculiarly useful in giving us a ready and practical command 
of our knowledge. There is much good sense in the following aphorism of Bacon : 
“ Reading makes a full man, writing a correct man, and speaking a ready man.” See 
a commentary on this aphorism in one of the numbers of the “ Adventurer.” 


OF MEMORY. 


253 

of men, that in ordinary conversation they form the most agreeable, 
and perhaps the most instructive companions. How inexhaustible 
soever the invention of an individual may be, the variety of his own 
peculiar ideas can bear no proportion to the whole mass of useful 
and curious information of which the world is already possessed. 
The conversation, accordingly, of men of genius, is sometimes 
extremely limited; and is interesting to the few alone, who know 
the value, and who can distinguish the marks of originality. In 
consequence, too, of that partiality which every man feels for his 
own speculations, they are more in danger of being dogmatical and 
disputatious, than those who have no system which they are inter¬ 
ested to defend. 

The same observations may be applied to authors. A book 
which contains the discoveries of one individual only, may be 
admired by a few, who are intimately acquainted with the history 
of the science to which it relates, but it has little chance for popu¬ 
larity with the multitude. An author who possesses industry 
sufficient to collect the ideas of others, and judgment sufficient to 
arrange them skilfully, is the most likely person to acquire a high 
degree of literary fame ; and although, in the opinion of enlightened 
judges, invention forms the chief characteristic of genius, yet it 
commonly happens that the objects of public admiration are men 
who are much less distinguished by this quality, than by extensive 
learning and cultivated taste. Perhaps, too, for the multitude, the 
latter class of authors is the most useful; as their writings contain 
the more solid discoveries which others have brought to light, 
separated from those errors with which truth is often blended in 
the first formation of a system. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OF IMAGINATION. 

I. Analysis of Imagination. —In attempting to draw the line 
between conception and imagination, I have already observed, that 
the province of the former is to present us with an exact transcript 
of what we have formerly felt and perceived ; that of the latter, to 
make a selection of qualities and of circumstances from a variety of 
different objects, and by combining and disposing these to form a 
new creation of its own. 

According to the definitions adopted in general by modern philo¬ 
sophers, the province of imagination would appear to be limited to 
objects of sight. “ It is the sense of sight,” says Mr. Addison, 
“ which furnishes the imagination with its ideas; so that by the 
pleasures of imagination, 1 here mean such as arise from visible 
objects, either when we have them actually in view, or when we 
call up their ideas into our minds by paintings, statues, descriptions, 



254 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


or any the like occasions. We cannot, indeed, have a single image 
in the fancy that did not make its first entrance through the sight.” 
Agreeably to the same view of the subject, Dr. Reid observes, that 
“ Imagination properly signifies a lively conception of objects of 
sight; the former power being distinguished from the latter, as a 
part from the whole.” 

That this limitation of the province of imagination to one parti¬ 
cular class of our perceptions is altogether arbitrary, seems to me 
to be evident; for, although the greater part of the materials which 
imagination combines be supplied by this sense, it is nevertheless 
indisputable, that our other perceptive faculties also contribute 
occasionally their share. How many pleasing images have been 
borrowed from the fragrance of the fields and the melody of the 
groves; not to mention that sister art, whose magical influence 
over the human frame it has been, in all ages, the highest boast of 
poetry to celebrate ! In the following passage, even the more gross 
sensations of taste form the subject of an ideal repast, on which it 
is impossible not to dwell with some complacency, particularly after 
a perusal of the preceding lines, in which the poet describes “ the 
wonders of the torrid zone.” 


“ Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; 

To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 

With the deep orange, glowing thro’ the green, 

Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin’d 
Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 

Fann’d by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit: 

Or, stretch’d amid these orchards of the sun, 

O let me me drain the cocoa’s milky bowl. 

More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
Which Bacchus pours ! Nor, on its slender twigs 
Low bending, be the full pomegranate scorn’d; 

Nor, creeping thro’ the woods, the gelid race 
Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells 
Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 

Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride 
Of vegetable life, beyond whate’er 
The poets imaged in the golden age : 

Quick let me strip thee of thy spiny coat, 

Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove!”— Thomson. 


What an assemblage of other conceptions different from all those 
hitherto mentioned, has the genius of Virgil combined in one 
distich! 

Hie gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata, Lycori, 

Hie nemus : hie ipso tecum consumerer aevo. * 

These observations are sufficient to show how inadequate a notion 
of the province of imagination (considered even in its reference to 

* “ Here cooling fountains roll through flow’ry meads, 

Here woods, Lycoris lift their verdant heads, 

Here could I wear my careless life away, 

And in thy arms insensibly decay.” 

Warton, Eclogue, x. 1. 53. 


OF IMAGINATION. 


255 

the sensible world) is conveyed by the definitions of Mr. Addison 
and of Dr. Reid. But the sensible world, it must be remembered, 
is not the only field where imagination exerts her powers. All the 
objects of human knowledge supply materials to her forming hand; 
diversifying infinitely the works she produces, while the mode of 
her operation remains essentially uniform. As it is the same power 
of reasoning which enables us to carry on our investigations with 
respect to individual objects, and with respect to classes or genera; 
so it was by the same processes of analysis and combination, that 
the genius of Milton produced the garden of Eden, that of Har¬ 
rington the commonwealth of Oceana, and that of Shakspeare the 
characters of Hamlet and Falstaff. The difference between these 
several efforts of invention, consists only in the manner in which 
the original materials were acquired; as far as the power of imagi¬ 
nation is concerned, the processes are perfectly analogous. 

The attempts of Mr. Addison and of Dr. Reid to limit the pro¬ 
vince of imagination to objects of sight, have plainly proceeded 
from a very important fact, which it may be worth while to illus¬ 
trate more particularly. That the mind has a greater facility, and 
of consequence, a greater delight in recalling the perceptions of 
this sense than those of any of the others; while, at the same time, 
the variety of qualities perceived by it is incomparably greater. It 
is this sense, accordingly, which supplies the painter and the 
statuary with all the subjects on which their genius is exercised, 
and which furnishes to the descriptive poet the largest and the most 
valuable portion of the materials which he combines. In that 
absurd species of prose composition, too, which borders on poetry, 
nothing is more remarkable than the predominance of phrases that 
recall to the memory glaring colours, and those splendid appear¬ 
ances of nature which make a strong impression on the eye. It 
has been mentioned by different writers, as a characteristical cir¬ 
cumstance in the Oriental or Asiatic style, that the greater part of 
the metaphors are taken from the celestial luminaries. “ The works 
of the Persians,” says M. de Yoltaire, “ are like the titles of their 
kings, in which we are perpetually dazzled with the sun and the 
moon.” Sir William Jones, in a short Essay on the Poetry of 
Eastern Nations, has endeavoured to show, that this is not owing 
to the bad taste of the Asiatics, but to the old language and popular 
religion of their country. But the truth is, that the very same 
criticism will be found to apply to the juvenile productions of every 
author possessed of a warm imagination, and to the compositions of 
every people among whom a cultivated and philosophical taste has 
not established a sufficiently marked distinction between the 
appropriate styles of poetry and of prose. The account given by 
the Abbe Girard of the meaning of the word Phebus, as employed 
by the French critics, confirms strongly this observation. “ Le 
Phebus a un brillant qui signifie, ou semble signifier quelque chose : 


256 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


le soleil y entre d’ordinaire; et c’est peut-etre ce qui, en notre 
langue, a donne lieu au nom de Phebus .” (Synonymes Francis.)* 

Agreeably to these principles, Gray, in describing the infantine 
reveries of poetical genius, has fixed, with exquisite j udgment, on 
this class of our conceptions: 

“ Yet oft before his infant eye would run 
Such forms as glitter in the Muse’s ray 
With orient hues-” 

From these remarks it may be easily understood, why the word 
imagination, in its most ordinary acceptation, should be applied to 
cases where our conceptions are derived from the sense of sight; 
although the province of this power be, in fact, as unlimited as the 
sphere of human enjoyment and of human thought. Hence, the 
origin of those partial definitions which I have been attempting to 
correct; and hence too, the origin of the word imagination; the 
etymology of which implies manifestly a reference to visible objects. 

To all the various modes in which imagination may display itself, 
the greater part of the remarks contained in this chapter will be 
found to apply, under proper limitations ; but, in order to render 
the subject more obvious to the reader’s examination, I shall, in the 
further prosecution of it, endeavour to convey my ideas, rather by 
means of particular examples, than in the form of general princi¬ 
ples; leaving it to his own judgment to determine with what 
modifications the conclusions to which we are led, may be extended 
to other combinations of circumstances. 

Among the innumerable phenomena which this part of our con¬ 
stitution presents to our examination, the combinations which the 
mind forms out of materials supplied by the power of conception, 
recommend themselves strongly, both by their simplicity, and by 
the interesting nature of the discussions to which they lead. I 
shall avail myself, therefore, as much as possible, in the following 
inquiries, of whatever illustrations I am able to borrow from the 
arts of poetry and of painting; the operations of imagination in these 
arts furnishing the most intelligible and pleasing exemplifications 
of the intellectual processes by which, in those analogous but less 
palpable instances that fall under the consideration of the moralist, 
the mind deviates from the models presented to it by experience, 
and forms to itself new and untried objects of pursuit. It is in 
consequence of such processes, (which how little soever they may 
be attended to, are habitually passing in the thoughts of all men,) 
that human aflairs exhibit so busy and so various a scene; tending, in 
one case, to improvement, and, in another, to decline ; according as 
our notions of excellence and of happiness are just or erroneous. 

It was observed in a former part of this work, that imagination is 

* “ Phoebus lias a brilliancy which signifies, or seems to signify, something ; the sun 
generally is connected with it, and it is that which, perhaps, in our language has given 
rise to Phoebus.” 


OF IMAGINATION. 


257 

a complex power. (See Chap. III. § i. p. 71.) It includes con¬ 
ception or simple apprehension, which enables us to form a notion 
of those former objects of perception or of knowledge, out of which 
we are to make a selection; abstraction, which separates the se¬ 
lected materials from the qualities and circumstances which are con¬ 
nected with them in nature ; and judgment or taste, which selects 
the materials, and directs their combination. To these powers we 
may add that particular habit of association to which I formerly 
gave the name of fancy; as it is this which presents to our choice, 
all the different materials which are subservient to the efforts of 
imagination, and which may therefore be considered as forming 
the ground-work of poetical genius. 

To illustrate these observations, let us consider the steps by 
which Milton must have proceeded in creating his imaginary garden 
of Eden. When he first proposed to himself that subject of de¬ 
scription, it is reasonable to suppose, that a variety of the most 
striking scenes which he had seen, crowded into his mind. The 
association of ideas suggested them, and the power of conception 
placed each of them before him with all its beauties and imperfec¬ 
tions. In every natural scene, if we destine it for any particular 
purpose, there are defects and redundancies, which art may some¬ 
times, but cannot always, correct. But the power of imagination is 
unlimited. She can create and annihilate ; and dispose, at pleasure, 
her woods, her rocks, and her rivers. Milton, accordingly, would 
not copy his Eden from any one scene, but would select from each 
the features which were most eminently beautiful. The power of 
abstraction enabled him to make the separation, and taste directed 
him in the selection. Thus was he furnished with his materials; 
by a skilful combination of which, he has created a landscape, more 
perfect, probably, in all its parts than was ever realized in nature; 
and certainly very different from anything which this country 
exhibited at the period when he wrote. It is a curious remark of 
Mr. Walpole, that Milton’s Eden is free from the defects of the old 
English garden, and is imagined on the same principles which it 
was reserved for the present age to carry into execution. 

From what has been said, it is sufficiently evident, that imagina¬ 
tion is not a simple power of the mind, like attention, conception, 
or abstraction; but that it is formed by a combination of various 
faculties. It is farther evident, that it must appear under very dif¬ 
ferent forms, in the case of different individuals; as some of its 
component parts are liable to be greatly influenced by habit, and 
other accidental circumstances. The variety, for example, of the 
materials out of which the combinations of the poet or the painter 
are formed, will depend much on the tendency of external situa¬ 
tion, to store the mind with a multiplicity of conceptions; and the 
beauty of these combinations will depend entirely on the success 
with which the power of taste has been cultivated. What we call, 
therefore, the power of imagination, is not the gift of nature, but 


258 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


the result of acquired habits, aided by favourable circumstances. It 
is not an original endowment of the mind, but an accomplishment 
formed by experience and situation ; and which, in its different gra¬ 
dations, fills up all the interval between the first efforts of untutored 
genius and the sublime creations of Raphael or of Milton. 

An uncommon degree of imagination constitutes poetical genius ; 
a talent which, although chiefly displayed in poetical composition, 
is also the foundation (though not precisely in the same manner) of 
various other arts. A few remarks on the relation which imagina¬ 
tion bears to some of the most interesting of these, will throw 
additional light on its nature and office. 

II. Of Imagination considered in its Relation to some of the Fine 
Arts. —Among the arts connected with imagination, some not only 
take their rise from this power, but produce objects which are ad¬ 
dressed to it. Others take their rise from imagination, but produce 
objects which are addressed to the power of perception. 

To the latter of these two classes of arts belongs that of gardening; 
or, as it has been lately called, the art of creating landscape. In 
this art, the designer is limited in his creation by nature; and his 
only province is to correct, to improve, and to adorn. As he can¬ 
not repeat his experiments, in order to observe the effect, he must 
call up, in his imagination, the scene which he means to produce; 
and apply to this imaginary scene his taste and his judgment; or, in 
other words, to a lively conception of visible objects, he must add 
a power (which long experience and attentive observation alone can 
give him) of judging beforehand of the effect which they would 
produce, if they were actually exhibited to his senses. This power 
forms what Lord Chatham beautifully and expressively called 
the prophetic Eye of Taste: that eye which (if I may borrow the 
language of Mr. Gray) “ sees all the beauties that a place is sus¬ 
ceptible of, long before they are born; and when it plants a seed¬ 
ling, already sits under the shade of it, and enjoys the effect it will 
have, from every point of view that lies in the prospect.” (Gray’s 
Works, by Mason, p. 277.) But although the artist who creates a 
landscape copies it from his imagination, the scene which he exhi¬ 
bits is addressed to the senses, and may produce its full effect on the 
minds of others, without any effort on their part, either of imagina¬ 
tion or of conception. 

To prevent being misunderstood, it is necessary for me to remark, 
that, in the last observation, I speak merely of the natural effects 
produced by a landscape, and abstract entirely from the pleasure 
which may result from an accidental association of ideas with a 
particular scene. The effect resulting from such associations will 
depend, in a great measure, on the liveliness with which the asso¬ 
ciated objects are conceived, and on the affecting nature of the 
pictures which a'creative imagination, when once roused, will pre¬ 
sent to the mind; but the pleasures thus arising from the accidental 
exercise that a landscape may give to the imagination, must not be 
confounded with those which it is naturally fitted to produce. 


OF IMAGINATION. 


259 

In painting, (excepting in those instances in which it exhibits a 
faithful copy of a particular object,) the original idea must be formed 
in the imagination ; and, in most cases, the exercise of imagination 
must concur with perception, before the picture can produce that 
effect on the mind of the spectator which the artist has in view. 
Painting, therefore, does not belong entirely to either of the two 
classes of arts formerly mentioned, but has something in common 
with them both. 

As far as the painter aims at copying exactly what he sees, he 
may be guided mechanically by general rules; and he requires no 
aid from that creative genius which is characteristical of the poet. 
The pleasure, however, which results from painting, considered 
merely as an imitative art, is extremely trifling ; and is specifically 
different from that which it aims to produce, by awakening the 
imagination. Even in portrait-painting, the servile copyist of 
nature is regarded in no higher light than that of a tradesman. 
“ Deception,” as Reynolds has excellently observed, “ instead of 
advancing the art, is, in reality, carrying it back to its infant state. 
The first essays of painting were certainly nothing but mere imita¬ 
tions of individual objects ; and when this amounted to a deception, 
the artist had accomplished his purpose.” (Notes on Mason’s 
Translation of Fresnoy’s Poem on the Art of Painting, p. 114.) 

When the history or the landscape painter indulges his genius, 
in forming new combinations of his own, he vies with the poet in 
the noblest exertion of the poetical art; and he avails himself of 
his professional skill, as the poet avails himself of language, only 
to convey the ideas in his mind. To deceive the eye by accurate 
representations of particular forms, is no longer his aim ; but, by 
the touches of an expressive pencil, to speak to the imaginations of 
others. Imitation, therefore, is not the end which he proposes to 
himself, but the means which he employs in order to accomplish it; 
nay, if the imitation be carried so far as to preclude all exercise of 
the spectator’s imagination, it will disappoint, in a great measure, 
the purpose of the artist. 

In poetry, and in every other species of composition, in which 
one person attempts, by means of language, to present to the mind 
of anpther the objects of his own imagination, this power is 
necessary, though not in the same degree, to the author and to 
the reader. When we peruse a description, we naturally feel a 
disposition to form, in our own minds, a distinct picture of what is 
described; and in proportion to the attention and interest which 
the subject excites, the picture becomes steady and determinate. 
It is scarcely possible for us to hear much of a particular town 
without forming some notion of its figure and size and situation; 
and in reading history and poetry, I believe it seldom happens that 
we do not annex imaginary appearances to the names of our 
favourite characters. It is, at the same time, almost certain that 
the imaginations of no two men coincide upon such occasions ; and, 


260 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


therefore, though both may be pleased, the agreeable impressions 
which they feel may be widely different from each other, according 
as the pictures by which they are produced are more or less happily 
imagined. Hence it is, that, when a person accustomed to dramatic 
reading sees, for the first time, one of his favourite characters 
represented on the stage, he is generally dissatisfied with the exhi¬ 
bition, however eminent the actor maybe ; and if he should happen, 
before this representation, to have been very familiarly acquainted 
with the character, the case may continue to be the same through 
life. Tor my own part, I have never received from any Falstaff 
on the stage half the pleasure which Shakespeare gives me in the 
closet; and I am persuaded that I should feel some degree of 
uneasiness if I were present at any attempt to personate the figure 
or the voice of Don Quixote or Sancho Pan 9 a. It is not always 
that the actor, on such occasions, falls short of our expectation. 
He disappoints us, by exhibiting something different from what 
our imagination had anticipated, and which consequently appears 
to us, at the moment, to be an unfaithful representation of the 
poet’s 'idea; and until a frequent repetition of the performance has 
completely obliterated our former impressions, it is impossible for 
us to form an adequate estimate of its merit. 

Similar observations may be applied to other subjects. The 
sight of any natural scene, or of any work of art, provided we have 
not previously heard of it, commonly produces a greater effect, at 
first, than ever afterwards: but if, in consequence of a description, 
we have been led to form a previous notion of it, I apprehend the 
effect will be found less pleasing the first time it is seen than the 
second. Although the description should fall short greatly of the 
reality, yet the disappointment which we feel, on meeting with 
something different from what we expected, diminishes our satis¬ 
faction. The second time we see the scene, the effect of novelty 
is indeed less than before; but it is still considerable, and the 
imagination now anticipates nothing which is not realized in the 
perception. 

The remarks which have been made, afford a satisfactory reason 
why so few are to be found who have a genuine relish for the beau¬ 
ties of poetry. [The designs of Kent and of Brown evince in their 
authors a degree of imagination entirely analogous to that?of the 
descriptive poet; but when they are once executed, their beauties 
(excepting those which result from association) meet the eye of 
every spectator. In poetry the effect is inconsiderable, unless upon 
a mind which possesses some degree of the authors genius; a mind 
amply furnished by its previous habits, with the means of inter¬ 
preting the language which he employs; and able, by its own 
imagination, to co-operate with the efforts of his art.] 

It has been often remarked, that the general words which express 
complex ideas, seldom convey precisely the same meaning to dif¬ 
ferent individuals, and that hence arises much of the ambiguity of 


OF IMAGINATION. 


261 

language. The same observation holds, in no inconsiderable degree, 
with respect to the names of sensible objects. When the words 
river, mountain, grove, occur in a description, a person of lively 
conceptions naturally thinks of some particular river, mountain, and 
grove, that have made an impression on his mind; and whatever 
the notions are, which he is led by his imagination to form of these 
obj ects, they must necessarily approach to the standard of what he 
has seen. Hence it is evident that, according to the different 
habits and education of individuals; according to the liveliness 
of their conceptions, and according to the creative power of their 
imaginations, the same words will produce very different effects on 
different minds. When a person who has received his education 
in the country, reads a description of a rural retirement; the house, 
the river, the woods, to which he was first accustomed, present 
themselves spontaneously to his conception, accompanied, perhaps, 
with the recollection of his early friendships, and all those pleasing 
ideas which are commonly associated with the scenes of childhood 
and of youth. How different is the effect of the description upon 
his mind, from what it would produce on one who has passed his 
tender years at a distance from the beauties of nature, and whose 
infant sports are connected in his memory with the gloomy alleys 
of a commercial city! 

But it is not only in interpreting the particular words of a 
description, that the powers of imagination and conception are 
employed. They are farther necessary for filling up the different 
parts of that picture, of which the most minute describer can only 
trace the outline. In the best description, there is much left to 
the reader to supply; and the effect which it produces on his mind 
will depend, in a considerable degree, on the invention and taste 
with which the picture is finished. It is therefore possible, on the 
one hand, that the happiest efforts of poetical genius may be 
perused with perfect indifference by a man of sound judgment 
and not destitute of natural sensibility; and, on the other hand, 
that a cold and common-place description may be the means of 
awakening, in a rich and glowing imagination, a degree of enthu¬ 
siasm unknown to the author. 

All the different arts which I have hitherto mentioned as taking 
their rise from the imagination, have this in common, that their 
primary object is to please. This observation applies to the art of 
poetry, no less than to the others; nay, it is this circumstance which 
characterises poetry, and distinguishes it from all the other classes 
of literary composition. The object of the philosopher is to inform 
and enlighten mankind; that of the orator, to acquire an ascendant 
over the will of others, by bending to his own purposes their judg¬ 
ments, their imaginations, and their passions : but the primary and 
the distinguishing aim of the poet is, to please; and the principal 
resource which he possesses for this purpose, is by addressing the 
imagination. Sometimes, indeed, he may seem to encroach on the 


262 


PART I. 


CIIAP. VIII. 


province of the philosopher or of the orator; but, in these instances, 
he only borrows from them the means by which he accomplishes his 
end. If he attempts to enlighten and to inform, he addresses the 
understanding only as a vehicle of pleasure : if he makes an appeal 
to the passions, it is only to passions which it is pleasing to indulge. 
The philosopher, in like manner, in order to accomplish his end of 
instruction, may find it expedient, occasionally, to amuse the ima¬ 
gination, or to make an appeal to the passions: the orator may, at 
one time, state to his hearers a process of reasoning; at another, a 
calm narrative of facts; and, at a third, he may give the reins to 
poetical fancy. But still the ultimate end of the philosopher is to 
instruct, and of the orator to persuade; and whatever means they 
make use of which are not subservient to this purpose, are out of 
place, and obstruct the effect of their labours. 

The measured composition in which the poet expresses himself, 
is only one of the means which he employs to please. As the 
delight which he conveys to the imagination is heightened by the 
other agreeable impressions, which he can unite in the mind at the 
same time; he studies to bestow, upon the medium of communica¬ 
tion which he employs, all the various beauties of which it is sus¬ 
ceptible. Among these beauties the harmony of numbers is not 
the least powerful, for its effect is constant, and does not interfere 
with any of the other pleasures which language produces. A suc¬ 
cession of agreeable perceptions is kept up by the organical effect 
of words upon the ear; while they inform the understanding by 
their perspicuity and precision, or please the imagination by the 
pictures they suggest, or touch the heart by the associations they 
awaken. Of all these charms of language the poet may avail him¬ 
self ; and they are all so many instruments of his art. To the phi¬ 
losopher and the orator they may occasionally be of use; and to 
both they must be constantly so far an object of attention, that 
nothing may occur in their compositions, which may distract the 
thoughts, by offending either the ear or the taste; but the poet 
must not rest satisfied with this negative praise. Pleasure is the 
end of his art: and the more numerous the sources of it which he 
can open, the greater will be the effect produced by the efforts of 
his genius. 

The province of the poet is limited only by the variety of human 
enjoyments . Whatever is in the reality subservient to our hap¬ 
piness is a source of pleasure, when presented to our conceptions, 
and may sometimes derive from the heightenings of imagination a 
momentary charm, which we exchange with reluctance for the sub¬ 
stantial gratifications of the senses. The province of the painter , 
and of the statuary, is confined to the imitation of visible objects , 
and to the exhibition of such intellectual and moral qualities, as 
the human body is fitted to express. In ornamental architecture, 
and in ornamental gardening, the sole aim of the artist is to oive 
pleasure to the eye , by the beauty or sublimity of material forms. 


OF IMAGINATION. 


263 


But to the poet all the glories of external nature; all that is amiable 
or interesting or respectable in human character; all that excites 
and engages our benevolent affections; all those truths which make 
the heart feel itself better and more happy; all these supply mate¬ 
rials, out of which he forms and peoples a world of his own, where 
no inconveniences damp our enjoyments, and where no clouds 
darken our prospects. 

That the pleasures of poetry arise chiefly from the agreeable 
feelings which it conveys to the mind, by awakening the imagina¬ 
tion, is a proposition which may seem too obvious to stand in need 
of proof. As the ingenious inquirer, however, into “ the Origin 
of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful,” has disputed the com¬ 
mon notions upon this subject, I shall consider some of the prin¬ 
cipal arguments by which he has supported his opinion. 

The leading principle of the theory which I am now' to examine 
is, “ That the common effect of poetry is not to raise ideas of 
things; ” or, as I would rather choose to express ^it, its common 
effect is not to give exercise to the powers of conception and ima¬ 
gination. That I may not be accused of misrepresentation, I shall 
state the doctrine at length in the words of the author. " If words 
have all their possible extent of power, three effects arise in the 
mind of the hearer. The first is the sound, the second the picture, 
or representation of the thing signified by the sound; the third is, 
the affection of the soul produced by one or by both of the fore¬ 
going. Compounded abstract words, (honour, justice, liberty, and 
the like,) produce the first and the last of these effects, but not the 
second. Simple abstracts are used to signify some one simple idea, 
without much adverting to others which may chance to attend it; 
as blue, green, hot, cold, and the like; these are capable of effecting 
all three of the purposes of words; as the aggregate words, man, 
castle, horse, &c. are in a yet higher degree. But I am of opinion, 
that the most general effect even of these words does not arise from 
their forming pictures of the general things they would represent in 
the imagination; because, on a very diligent examination of my 
own mind, and getting others to consider theirs, I do not find that 
once in twenty times any such picture is formed; and when it is, 
there is most commonly a particular effort of the imagination for 
that purpose. But the aggregate words operate, as I said of the 
compound abstracts, not by presenting any image to the mind, but 
by having, from use, the same effect on being mentioned, that their 
original has when it is seen. Suppose we were to read a passage to 
this effect: f The river Danube rises in a moist and mountainous 
soil in the heart of Germany, where, winding to and fro, it waters 
several principalities, until turning into Austria, and leaving the 
walls of Vienna, it passes into Hungary; there, with a vast flood, 
augmented by the Saave and the Drave, it quits Christendom, and 
rolling through the barbarous countries which border on Tartary, it 
enters by many mouths into the Black Sea.’ In this description 


PART 


CHAP. VIII. 


264 


many things are mentioned; as mountains, rivers, cities, the sea, 
&c. But let anybody examine himself, and see whether he has 
had impressed on his imagination any pictures of a river, mountain, 
watery soil, Germany, &c. Indeed, it is impossible, in the rapidity 
and quick succession of words in conversation, to have ideas both 
of the sound of the word, and of the thing represented; besides, 
some words expressing real essences are so mixed with others of a 
general and nominal import, that it is impracticable to jump from 
sense to thought, from particulars to generals, from things to words, 
in such a manner as to answer the purposes of life; nor is it 
necessary that we should.” 

In farther confirmation of this doctrine, Mr. Burke refers to the 
poetical works of the late amiable and ingenious Dr. Blacklock. 
“ Here” says he, “ is a poet, doubtless as much affected by his own 
descriptions as any that reads them can be ; and yet he is affected 
with this strong enthusiasm, by things of which he neither has nor 
can possibly have any idea, farther than that of a bare sound ; 
and why may not those who read his works be affected in the same 
manner that he was, with as little of any real ideas of the things 
described ? ” 

Before I proceed to make any remarks on these passages, I must 
observe in general, that I perfectly agree with Mr. Burke, in think¬ 
ing that a very great proportion of the words which we habitually 
employ, have no effect to “ raise ideas in the mind or to exercise 
the powers of conception and imagination. My notions on this 
subject I have already sufficiently explained in treating of abstraction. 

1 agree with him farther, that a great proportion of the words 
which are used in poetry and eloquence, produce very powerful 
effects on the mind, by exciting emotions which we have been 
accustomed to associate with particular sounds; without leading 
the imagination to form to itself any pictures or representations: 
and his account of the manner in which such words operate, appears 
to me satisfactory. “ Such words are in reality but mere sounds ; 
but they are sounds, which, being used on particular occasions, 
wherein we receive some good, or suffer some evil; or see others 
affected with good or evil; or which we hear applied to other inter¬ 
esting things or events ; and being applied in such a variety of 
cases that we know readily by habit to what things they belong, 
they produce in the mind, whenever they are afterwards mentioned 
effects similar to those of their occasions. The sounds being often 
used without reference to any particular occasion, and carrying 
still their first impressions, they at last utterly lose their connexion 
with the particular occasions that gave rise to them; yet the sound, 
without any annexed notion, continues to operate as before.” 

Notwithstanding, however, these concessions, I cannot admit 
that it is in this way poetry produces its principal effect. Whence 
is it that general and abstract expressions are so tame and lifeless, 
in comparison of those which are particular and figurative ? Is it 


OF IMAGINATION. 


265 

not because the former do not give any exercise to the imagination, 
like the latter ? Whence the distinction, acknowledged by all 
critics, ancient and modern, between that charm of words which 
evaporates in the process of translation, and those permanent 
beauties, which presenting to the mind the distinctness of a picture, 
may impart pleasure to the most remote regions and ages ? Is it 
not, that in the one case, the poet addresses himself to associations 
which are local and temporary; in the other, to those essential 
principles of human nature, from which poetry and painting derive 
their common attractions ? Hence, among the various sources of 
the sublime, the peculiar stress laid by Longinus on what he calls 
Visions , (</>ai'ra<ricu)— orav a \tyys, vir kvOovcnaaixov koX iraOovs 
fi\eTT€iv bonys, kcli vt r o\\nv TiOys rots clkovovctlv* 

In treating of abstraction I formerly remarked, that the perfec¬ 
tion of philosophical style is to approach as nearly as possible to 
that species of language we employ in algebra, and to exclude 
every expression which has a tendency to divert the attention by 
exciting the imagination, or to bias the judgment by casual associa¬ 
tions. For this purpose the philosopher ought to be sparing in 
the employment of figurative words, and to convey his notions by 
general terms which have been accurately defined. To the orator, 
on the other hand, when he wishes to prevent the cool exercise of 
the understanding, it may, on the same account be frequently 
useful to delight or to agitate his hearers, by blending with his 
reasonings the illusions of poetry, or the magical influence of sounds 
consecrated by popular feelings. A regard to the different ends 
thus aimed at in philosophical and in rhetorical composition, ren¬ 
ders the ornaments which are so becoming in the one, inconsistent 
with good taste and good sense when adopted in the other. 

In poetry, as truths and facts are introduced, not for the purpose 
of information, but to convey pleasure to the mind, nothing offends 
more, than those general expressions which form the great instru¬ 
ment of philosophical reasoning. The original pleasures, which it 
is the aim of poetry to recall to the mind, are all derived from 
individual objects : and, of consequence, (with a very few excep¬ 
tions, which it does not belong to my present subject to enumerate,) 
the more particular, and the more appropriated its language is, the 
greater will be the charm it possesses. 

With respect to the description of the course of the Danube 
already quoted, I shall not dispute the result of the experiment to 
be as the author represents it. That words may often be applied 
to their proper purposes, without our annexing any particular 

* De Sublim. § xv. [ (Visions.) When expressing anything, you would seem to 
have seen it through enthusiasm and emotion, and would place it before the view of 
the hearers.]—Q,uas (pavraalas Grseci vocant, nos sane Visione s appellamus ; per quas 
imagines rerum absentium ita reprsesentantur animo, ut eas cernere oculis ac prse- 
sentes habere videamur.—Quinct. Inst. Orat. vi. 2. [What the Greeks call (pavraalas , 
we call Visiones, by means of which the images of absent things are so represented to 
the mind, that we seem to perceive them by sight, and have them present to us.] 


266 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


notions to them, I have formerly shown at great length ; and I 
admit that the meaning of this description may be so understood. 
But to be understood is not the sole object of the poet: his pri¬ 
mary object is to please; and the pleasure which he conveys will, 
in general, be found to be proportioned to the beauty and liveliness 
of the images which he suggests. In the case of a poet born blind, 
the effect of poetry must depend on other causes; but whatever 
opinion we may form on this point, it appears to me impossible 
that such a poet should receive, even from his own descriptions, the 
same degree of pleasure which they'may-convey to a reader who 
is capable of conceiving the scenes which are described. Indeed 
this instance which Mr. Burke produces in support of his theory, 
is sufficient of itself to show that the theory cannot be true in the 
extent in which it is stated. 

By way of contrast to the description of the Danube, I shall 
quote a stanza from Gray, which affords a very beautiful example 
of the two different effects of poetical expression. The pleasure 
conveyed by the two last lines resolves almost entirely into Mr. 
Burke’s principles; but great as this pleasure is, how inconsiderable 
is it in comparison of that arising from the continued and varied 
exercise which the preceding lines give to the imagination ? 


“ In climes beyond the solar road, 

Where shaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam, 
The muse has broke the twilight-gloom, 

To cheer the shiv’ring native’s dull abode. 

And oft beneath the od’rous shade 
Of Chili’s boundless forests laid, 

She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat 
In loose numbers wildly sweet, 

Their feather-cinctur’d chiefs, and dusky loves. 

Her track where’er the goddess roves, 

Glory pursue, and generous shame, 

Th’ unconquerable mind, and freedom’s holy flame.” 


I cannot help remarking further, the effect of the solemn and 
uniform flow of the verse in this exquisite stanza, in retarding the 
pronunciation of the reader; so as to arrest his attention to every 
successive picture, till it has time to produce its proper impression. 
More of the charm of poetical rhythm arises from this circumstance 
than is commonly imagined. 

To those who wish to study the theory of poetical expression, 
no author in our language affords a richer variety of illustrations 
than the poet last quoted. His merits, in many other respects, are 
great; but his skill in this particular is more peculiarly conspicuous. 
How much he had made the principles of this branch of his art an 
object of study, appears from his letters published by Mr. Mason. 

I have sometimes thought, that, in the last line of the following 
passage, he had in view the two different effects of words already 
described; the effect of some, in awakening the powers of concep- 


OF IMAGINATION. 267 

tion and imagination; and that of others, in exciting associated 
emotions: 

i( Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 

Bright-ey’d Fancy hovering o’er, 

Scatters from her pictur’d urn, 

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.” 

III. Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius .—From the 
remarks made in the foregoing sections, it is obvious, in what 
manner a person accustomed to analyze and combine his con- 
ceptions may acquire an idea of beauties superior to any which he 
has seen realized. It may also be easily inferred, that a habit of 
forming such intellectual combinations, and of remarking their 
effects on our own minds, must contribute to refine and to exalt 
the taste, to a degree which it never can attain in those men, who 
study to improve it by the observation and comparison of external 
objects only. 

[A cultivated taste, combined with a creative imagination, con¬ 
stitutes genius in the fine arts. Without taste, imagination could 
produce only a random analysis and combination of our concep¬ 
tions ; and without imagination, taste would be destitute of the 
faculty of invention.] These two ingredients of genius may be mixed 
together in all possible proportions; and where either is possessed 
in a degree remarkably exceeding what falls to the ordinary share 
of mankind, it may compensate in some measure for a deficiency in 
the other. An uncommonly correct taste, with little imagination, 
if it does not produce works which excite admiration, produces at 
least nothing which can offend. An uncommon fertility of imagi¬ 
nation, even when it offends, excites our wonder by its creative 
power; and shows what it could have performed, had its exertions 
been guided by a more perfect model. 

In the infancy of the arts, an union of these two powers in the 
same mind is necessary for the production of every work of genius. 
Taste, without imagination, is, in such a situation, impossible; for, 
as there are no monuments of ancient genius on which it can be 
formed, it must be the result of experiments, which nothing but 
the imagination of every individual can enable him to make. Such 
a taste must necessarily be imperfect, in consequence of the limited 
experience of which it is the result; but, without imagination, it 
could not have been acquired even in this imperfect degree. 

In the progress of the arts the case comes to be altered. The 
productions of genius accumulate to such an extent, that taste may 
be formed by a careful study of the works of others; and, as for¬ 
merly imagination had served as a necessary foundation for taste, 
so taste begins now to invade the province of imagination. The 
combinations which the latter faculty has been employed in making, 
during a long succession of ages, approach to infinity; and present 
such ample materials to a judicious selection, that with a high 
standard of excellence, continually present to the thoughts, in- 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


268 


dustry, assisted by the most moderate degree of imagination, will, 
in time, produce performances, not only more free from faults, but 
incomparably more powerful in their effects, than the most original 
efforts of untutored genius, which, guided by an uncultivated taste, 
copies after an inferior model of perfection. What Reynolds ob¬ 
serves of painting, may be applied to all the other fine arts: that 
“ as the painter, by bringing together in one piece, those beauties 
which are dispersed amongst a great variety of individuals, pro¬ 
duces a figure more beautiful than can be found in nature ; so that 
artist who can unite in himself the excellencies of the various 
painters, will approach nearer to perfection than any of his 
masters.”—(P. 226.) 

IY. Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character and 
Happiness .—Hitherto we have considered the power of imagination 
chiefly as it is connected with the fine arts. But it deserves our 
attention still more, on account of its extensive influence on human 
character and happiness. 

The lower animals, as far as we are able to judge, are entirely 
occupied with the objects of their present perceptions : and the case 
is nearly the same with the inferior orders of our own species. 
One of the principal effects which a liberal education produces on 
the mind is to accustom us to withdraw our attention from the ob¬ 
jects of sense, and to direct it at pleasure to those intellectual com¬ 
binations which delight the imagination. Even, however, among 
men of cultivated understandings, this faculty is possessed in very 
unequal degrees by different individuals; and these differences 
(whether resulting from original constitution or from early educa¬ 
tion) lay the foundation of some striking varieties in human 
character. 

What we commonly call sensibility depends in a great measure on 
the power of imagination. Point out to two men any object of 

compassion;—a man, for example, reduced by misfortune from easy 
circumstances to indigence. The one feels merely in proportion 
to what he perceives by his senses. The other follows, in imagina¬ 
tion, the unfortunate man to his dwelling, and partakes with him 
and his family in their domestic distresses. He listens to their con¬ 
versation, while they recall to remembrance the flattering prospects 
they once indulged; the circle of friends they had been forced to 
leave; the liberal plans of education which were begun and inter¬ 
rupted ; and pictures out to himself all the various resources which 
delicacy and pride suggest to conceal poverty from the world. As 
he proceeds in the painting his sensibility increases, and he weeps, 
not for what he sees, but for what he imagines. It will be said 
that it was his sensibility which originally aroused his imagination; 
and the observation is undoubtedly true ; but it is equally evident, 
on the other hand, that the warmth of his imagination increases and 
prolongs his sensibility. 

This is beautifully illustrated in the Sentimental Journey of 


OF IMAGINATION. 


269 

Sterne. While engaged in a train of reflections on the state prisons 
in France, the accidental sight of a starling in a cage suggests to 
him the idea of a captive in his dungeon. He indulges his imagi¬ 
nation, “ and looks through the twilight of the grated door to take 
the picture.” 

“ I beheld,” says he, “ his body half wasted away with long ex¬ 
pectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the 
heart it is, which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer 
I saw him pale and feverish: in thirty years the western breeze had 
not once fanned his blood: he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that 
time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his 
lattice.—His children—But here my heart began to bleed, and I 
was forced to go on with another part of the portrait. 

“ He was sitting upon the ground, in the farthest corner of his 
dungeon, on a little straw, which was alternately his chair and bed: 
a little calendar of small sticks was laid at the head, notched all over 
with the dismal days and nights he had passed there : he had one of 
these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching 
another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little 
light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast 
it down, shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction.” 

The foregoing observations may account, in part, for the effect 
which exhibitions of fictitious distress produce on some persons, 
who do not discover much sensibility to the distresses of real life. 
In a novel or a tragedy the picture is completely finished in all 
its parts; and we are made acquainted not only with every cir¬ 
cumstance on which the distress turns, but with the sentiments and 
feelings of every character, with respect to his situation. In real 
life we see, in general, only detached scenes of the tragedy; and 
the impression is slight, unless imagination finishes the characters, 
and supplies the incidents that are wanting. 

It is not only to scenes of distress that imagination increases our 
sensibility. It gives us a double share in the prosperity of others, 
and enables us to partake with a more lively interest in every for¬ 
tunate incident that occurs either to individuals or to communities. 
Even from the productions of the earth and the vicissitudes of the 
year, it carries forward our thoughts to the enjoyments they bring 
to the sensitive creation, and by interesting our benevolent affections 
in the scenes we behold, lends a new charm to the beauties of 
nature. 

I have often been inclined to think that the apparent coldness 
and selfishness of mankind may be traced, in a great measure, to a 
want of attention and a want of imagination. In the case of mis¬ 
fortunes which happen to ourselves, or to our near connexions, 
neither of these powers is necessary to make us acquainted with 
our situation; so that we feel, of necessity, the correspondent emo¬ 
tions. But without an uncommon degree of both, it is impossible 
for any man to comprehend completely the situation of his neighbour. 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


270 


or to have an idea of a great part of the distress which exists in the 
world. If we feel, therefore, more for ourselves than for others, 
the difference is to be ascribed, at least partly, to this; that, in the 
former case the facts which are the foundation of our feelings, are 
more fully before us than they possibly can be in the latter. 

In order to prevent misapprehensions of my meaning, it is neces¬ 
sary for me to add, that I do not mean to deny that it is a law 
of our nature, in cases in which there is an interference between 
our own interest and that of other men, to give a certain degree of 
preference to ourselves; even supposing our neighbour’s situation 
to be as completely known to us as our own. I only affirm, that, 
where this preference becomes blameable and unjust, the effect is 
to be accounted for partly in the way I mentioned.* One striking 
proof of this is the powerful emotions which may be occasionally 
excited in the minds of the most callous, when the attention has 
been once fixed, and the imagination awakened by eloquent, and 
circumstantial, and pathetic description. 

A very amiable and profound moralist, in the account which he 
has given of the origin of our sense of justice, has, I think, drawn 
a less pleasing picture of the natural constitution of the human 
mind, than is agreeable to truth. “ To disturb,” says he, “ the 
happiness of our neighbour, merely because it stands in the way of 
our own; to take from him what is of real use to him, merely 
because it may be of equal or of more use to us; or, to indulge, in 
this manner, at the expense of other people, the natural preference 
which every man has for his own happiness above that of other 
people, is what no impartial spectator can go along with. Every 
man is, no doubt, first and principally recommended to his own 
care; and as he is fitter to take care of himself than any other per¬ 
son, it is fit and right that it should be so. Every man, therefore, 
is much more deeply interested in whatever immediately concerns 
himself, than in what concerns any other man: and to hear, per¬ 
haps, of the death of another person with whom we have no parti¬ 
cular connexion, will give us less concern, will spoil our stomach, 
or break our rest, much less than a very insignificant disaster which 
has befallen ourselves. But though the ruin of our neighbour may 
affect us much less than a very small misfortune of our own, we 
must not ruin him to prevent that small misfortune, nor even to 
prevent our own ruin. We must here, as in all other cases, view 
ourselves not so much according to that light in which we may 
naturally appear to ourselves, as according to that in which we 
naturally appear to others. Though every man may, according to 
the proverb, be the whole world to himself, to the rest of mankind 
he is a most insignificant part of it. Though his own happiness 
may be of more importance to him than that of all the world 
besides, to every other person it is of no more consequence than 


* I say, partly ; for habits of inattention to the situation of other men, undoubtedly 
presuppose some defect in the social affections. 


OF IMAGINATION. 


271 

that of any other man. Though it may be true, therefore, that 
every individual, in his own breast, naturally prefers himself to all 
mankind, yet he dares not look mankind in the face, and avow that 
he acts according to this principle. He feels that, in this prefer¬ 
ence, they can never go along with him, and that how natural 
soever it may be to him, it must always appear excessive and 
extravagant to them. When he views himself in the light in which 
he is conscious that others will view him, he sees that to them he 
is but one of the multitude, in no respect better than any other in 
it. If he would act so as that the impartial spectator may enter into 
the principles of his conduct, which is what of all things he has the 
greatest desire to do, he must, upon this, as upon all other occa¬ 
sions, humble the arrogance of his self-love, and bring it down to 
something which other men can go along with.” 

I am ready to acknowledge, that there is much truth in this pas¬ 
sage ; and that a prudential regard to the opinion of others might 
teach a man of good sense, without the aid of more amiable motives, 
to conceal his unreasonable partialities in favour of himself, and to 
act agreeably to what he conceives to be the sentiments of impartial 
spectators. But I cannot help thinking, that the fact is much too 
strongly stated with respect to the natural partiality of self-love, 
supposing the situation of our neighbours to be as completely pre¬ 
sented to our view, as our own must of necessity be. When the 
orator wishes to combat the selfish passions of his audience, and to 
rouse them to a sense of what they owe to mankind; what mode of 
persuasion does nature dictate to him ? Is it to remind them of 
the importance of the good opinion of the world, and of the neces¬ 
sity, in order to maintain it, of accommodating their conduct to the 
sentiments of others, rather than to their own feelings ? Such con¬ 
siderations undoubtedly might, with some men, produce a certain 
effect; and might lead them to assume the appearance of virtue; 
but they would never' excite a sentiment of indignation at the 
thought of injustice, or a sudden and involuntary burst of disin¬ 
terested affection. If the orator can only succeed in fixing their 
attention to facts, and in bringing these facts home to their imagi¬ 
nation by the power of his eloquence, he has completely attained 
his object. No sooner are the facts apprehended, than the benevo¬ 
lent principles of our nature display themselves in all their beauty. 
The most cautious and timid lose, for a moment, all thought of 
themselves, and despising every consideration of prudence or of 
safety, become wholly engrossed with the fortunes of others. 

[Many other facts, which are commonly alleged as proofs of the 
original selfishness of mankind, may be explained, in part, in a 
similar way; and may be traced to habits of inattention , or to a 
leant of imagination , arising, probably, from some fault in early 
education.] 

What has now been remarked with respect to the social prin¬ 
ciples, may be applied to all our other passions, excepting those 


PART r. 


CHAP. viir. 


272 

which take their rise from the body. They are commonly strong 
in proportion to the warmth and vigour of the imagination. 

It is, however, extremely curious, that when an imagination, 
which is naturally phlegmatic, or which, like those of the vulgar, 
has little activity, from a want of culture, is fairly roused by the 
descriptions of the orator or of the poet, it is more apt to produce 
the violence of enthusiasm, than in minds of a superior order. By 
giving this faculty occasional exercise, we acquire a great degree 
of command over it. As we can withdraw the attention at plea¬ 
sure from objects of sense, and transport ourselves into a world of 
our own, so when we wish to moderate our enthusiasm, we can 
dismiss the objects of imagination, and return to our ordinary per¬ 
ceptions and occupations. But in a mind to which these intellec¬ 
tual visions are not familiar, and which borrows them completely 
from the genius of another, imagination, when once excited, 
becomes perfectly ungovernable, and produces something like a 
temporary insanity. Hence the wonderful effects of popular elo¬ 
quence on the lower orders; effects which are much more remark¬ 
able than what it ever produces on men of education. 

V. Inconveniences resulting from an ill-regulated Imagination .—It 
was undoubtedly the intention of nature, that the objects of per¬ 
ception should produce much stronger impressions on the mind 
than its own operations. And, accordingly, they always do so when 
proper care has been taken in early life to exercise the different 
principles of our constitution. But it is possible, by long habits of 
solitary reflection, to reverse this order of things, and to weaken 
the attention to sensible objects to so great a degree, as to leave 
the conduct almost wholly under the influence of imagination. 
Removed to a distance from society, and from the pursuits of life, 
when we have been long accustomed to converse with our own 
thoughts, and have found our activity gratified by intellectual exer¬ 
tions, which afford scope to all our powers and affections, without 
exposing us to the inconveniences resulting from the bustle of the 
world, we are apt to contract an unnatural predilection for medita¬ 
tion, and to lose all interest in external occurrences. In such a 
situation too, the mind gradually loses that command, which edu¬ 
cation, when properly conducted, gives it over the train of its ideas, 
till at length the most extravagant dreams of imagination acquire 
as powerful an influence in exciting all its passions, as if they were 
realities. A wild and mountainous country, which presents but a 
limited variety of objects, and these only of such a sort as “ awake 
to solemn thought,” has a remarkable effect in cherishing this 
enthusiasm. 

When such disorders of the imagination have been long confirmed 
by habit, the evil may perhaps be beyond a remedy; but in their 
inferior degrees much may be expected from our own efforts; in 
particular, from mingling gradually in the business and amusements 
of the world; or, if we .have sufficient force of mind for the exer- 


OF IMAGINATION. 


273 

tion, from resolutely plunging into those active and interesting and 
hazardous scenes, which, by compelling us to attend to external 
circumstances, may weaken the impressions of imagination, and 
strengthen those produced by realities. The advice of the poet, in 
these cases, is equally beautiful and just:— 

“ Go, soft enthusiast! quit the cypress groves. 

Nor to the rivulet’s lonely moanings tune 

Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts 

Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd ; 

Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish 
Of nobler minds, and push them night and day. 

Or join the caravan in quest of scenes 
New to your eyes, and shifting every hour, 

Beyond the Alps, beyond the Apennines. 

Or, more adventurous, rush into the field 
Where war grows hot; and raging through the sky, 

The lofty trumpet swells the madd’ning soul ; 

And in the hardy camp and toilsome march, 

Forget all softer and less manly cares.”— Armstrong. 

The disordered state of mind to which these observations refer is 
the more interesting, that it is chiefly incident to men of uncommon 
sensibility and genius. It has been often remarked, that there is a 
connexion between genius and melancholy ; and there is one sense of 
the word melancholy, in which the remark is undoubtedly true; a 
sense which it may be difficult to define, but in which it implies 
nothing either gloomy or malevolent.* This, I think, is not only 
confirmed by facts, but may be inferred from some principles which 
were formerly stated on the subject of invention; for as the dispo¬ 
sition now alluded to has a tendency to retard the current of thought, 
and to collect the attention of the mind, it is peculiarly favourable 
to the discovery of those profound conclusions which result from an 
accurate examination of the less obvious relations among our ideas. 
From the same principles, too, may be traced some of the effects 
which situation and early education produce on the intellectual 
character. Among the natives of wild and solitary countries we 
may expect to meet with sublime exertions of poetical imagination 
and of philosophical research; while those men whose attention 
has been dissipated from infancy amidst the bustle of the world, 
and whose current of thought has been trained to yield and accom¬ 
modate itself, every moment, to the rapid succession of trifles, 
which diversify fashionable life, acquire, without any effort on their 
part, the intellectual habits which are favourable to gaiety, vivacity, 
and wit. 

When a man, under the habitual influence of a warm imagina¬ 
tion, is obliged to mingle occasionally in scenes of real business, he 
is perpetually in danger of being misled by his own enthusiasm. 

* Ata Tt navres ocxoi irepirroi yeyuvacnv avfipes, r) Kara (piKoarocpiav , V 

-nonjaiv , 7 ] rexvas, (paivovrai fj.tAayxoAiK.oi ovtss. —Aristot. Problem, sect. xxx. [Whence 
has it happened that all eminent men, whether in philosophy, politics, poetry, or the 
arts, appear to have been melancholic ?—Aristotle, Problems.] 


PART 


CHAP. VIII. 


274 


What we call good sense in the conduct of life, consists chiefly in 
that temper of mind which enables its possessor to view, at all times, 
with perfect coolness and accuracy, all the various circumstances 
of his situation, so that each of them may produce its due impres¬ 
sion on him, without any exaggeration arising from his own pecu¬ 
liar habits. But to a man of an ill-regulated imagination, external 
circumstances only serve as hints to excite his own thoughts, and 
the conduct he pursues has, in general, far less reference to his 
real situation, than to some imaginary one, in which he conceives 
himself to be placed: in consequence of which, while he appears 
to himself to be acting with the most perfect wisdom and consis¬ 
tency, he may frequently exhibit to others all the appearances of 
folly. Such, pretty nearly, seems to be the idea which the author 
(Madame de Stael-Holstein) of the “ Reflections on the Character 
and Writings of Rousseau,” has formed of that extraordinary man. 
“ His faculties,” we are told, “ were slow in their operation, but his 
heart was ardent: it was in consequence of his own meditations 
that he became impassioned: he discovered no sudden emotions, 
but all his feelings grew upon reflection. It has, perhaps, happened 
to him to fall in love gradually with a woman, by dwelling on the 
idea of her during her absence. Sometimes he would part with 
you with all his former affection; but if an expression had escaped 
you, which might bear an unfavourable construction, he would 
recollect it, examine it, exaggerate it, perhaps dwell upon it for a 
month, and conclude by a total breach with you. Hence it was 
that there was scarce a possibility of undeceiving him; for the 
light which broke in upon him at once was not sufficient to efface 
the wrong impressions which had taken place so gradually in his 
mind. It was extremely difficult, too, to continue long on an inti¬ 
mate footing with him. A word, a gesture, furnished him with 
matter of profound meditation: he connected the most trifling cir¬ 
cumstances like so many mathematical propositions, and conceived 
his conclusions to be supported by the evidence of demonstration. 
I believe,” continues this ingenious writer, “ that imagination was 
the strongest of his faculties, and that it had almost absorbed all 
the rest. He dreamed rather than existed, and the events of his 
life might be said, more properly, to have passed in his mind, than 
without him: a mode of being, one should have thought, that 
ought to have secured him from distrust, as it prevented him from 
observation; but the truth was, it did not hinder him from attempt¬ 
ing to observe; it only rendered his observations erroneous. That 
his soul was tender, no one can doubt, after having read his works; 
but his imagination sometimes interposed between his reason and 
his affections, and destroyed their influence: he appeared some¬ 
times void of sensibility; but it was because he did not perceive 
objects such as they were. Had he seen them with our eyes, his 
heart would have been more affected than ours.” 

In this very striking description we see the melancholy picture 


OF IMAGINATION. 


275 


of sensibility and genius approaching to insanity. It is a case, 
probably, that but rarely occurs in the extent here described: but, 
I believe, there is no man who has lived much in the world, who 
will not trace many resembling features to it, in the circle of his 
own acquaintances; perhaps there are few who have not been occa¬ 
sionally conscious of some resemblance to it in themselves. 

To these observations we may add, that by an excessive indulgence 
in the pleasures of imagination, the taste may acquire a fastidious 
refinement unsuitable to the present situation of human nature; 
and those intellectual and moral habits, which ought to be formed 
by actual experience of the world, maybe gradually so accommodated 
to the dreams of poetry and romance, as to disqualify us for the 
scene in which we are destined to act. Such a distempered state 
of the mind is an endless source of error; more particularly when 
we are placed in those critical situations, in which our conduct 
determines our future happiness or misery; and which, on account 
of this extensive influence on human life, form the principal ground¬ 
work of fictitious composition. The effect of novels, in misleading 
the passions of youth, with respect to the most interesting and 
important of all relations, is one of the many instances of the incon¬ 
veniences resulting from an ill-regulated imagination. 

The passion of love has been in every age the favourite subject 
of the poets, and has given birth to the finest productions of human 
genius. These are the natural delight of the young and susceptible, 
long before the influence of the passions is felt; and from these a 
romantic mind forms to itself an ideal model of beauty and perfection, 
and becomes enamoured with its own creation. On a heart which 
has been long accustomed to be thus warmed by the imagination, 
the excellences of real characters make but a slight impression ; 
and, accordingly, it will be found, that men of a romantic turn, unless 
when under the influence of violent passions, are seldom attached to 
a particular object. Where, indeed, such a turn is united with a 
warmth of temperament, the effects are different; but they are 
equally fatal to happiness. As the distinctions which exist among 
real characters are confounded by false and exaggerated conceptions 
of ideal perfection, the choice is directed to some object by caprice 
and accident; a slight resemblance is mistaken for an exact coin¬ 
cidence ; and the descriptions of the poet and novelist are applied 
literally to an individual, who perhaps falls short of the common 
standard of excellence. “ I am certain,” says the author last quoted, 
in her account of the character of Rousseau, “ that he never formed an 
attachment which was not founded on caprice. It was illusions 
alone that could captivate his passions; and it was necessary for 
him always to accomplish his mistress from his own fancy. I am 
certain also,” she adds, “ that the woman whom he loved the most, 
and perhaps the only woman whom he loved constantly, was his 
own Julie” 

In the case of this particular passion, the effects of a romantic 

T 2 


276 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


imagination are obvious to the most careless observer; ancl they 
have often led moralists to regret that a temper of mind so dan¬ 
gerous to happiness should have received so much encouragement 
from some writers of our own age, who might have employed their 
genius to better purposes. These, however, are not the only effects 
which such habits of study have on the character. Some others, 
which are not so apparent at first view, have a tendency not only 
to mislead us where our own happiness is at stake, but to defeat 
the operation of those active principles, which were intended to 
unite us to society. The manner in which imagination influences 
the mind, in the instances which I allude to at present, is curious, 
and deserves a more particular explanation. 

I shall have occasion afterwards to show *, in treating of our moral 
powers, that experience diminishes the influence of passive impres¬ 
sions on the mind, but strengthens our active principles. A course 
of debauchery deadens the sense of pleasure, but increases the 
desire of gratification. An immoderate use of strong liquors 
destroys the sensibility of the palate, but strengthens the habit of 
intemperance. The enjoyments we derive from any favourite 
pursuit gradually decay as we advance in years : and yet we 
continue to prosecute our favourite pursuits with increasing 
steadiness and vigour. 

On these two laws of our nature is founded our capacity of moral 
improvement. In proportion as we are accustomed to obey our 
sense of duty, the influence of the temptations to vice is diminished; 
while, at the same time, our habit of virtuous conduct is con¬ 
firmed. How many passive impressions, for instance, must be 
overcome, before the virtue of beneficence can exert itself uniformly 
and habitually ! How many circumstances are there in the dis¬ 
tresses of others, which have a tendency to alienate our hearts 
from them, and which prompt us to withdraw from the sight of the 
miserable! The impressions we receive from these are unfavourable 
to virtue : their force, however, every day diminishes, and it may, 
perhaps, by perseverance, be wholly destroyed. It is thus that 
the character of the beneficent man is formed. The passive im¬ 
pressions which he felt originally, and which counteracted his 
sense of duty, have lost their influence, and a habit of beneficence 
is become part of his nature. 

It must be owned, that this reasoning may, in part, be retorted ,* 
for among those passive impressions, which are weakened by 
repetition, there are some which have a beneficial tendency. The 
uneasiness, in particular, which the sight of distress occasions, is a 
strong incentive to acts of humanity; and it cannot be denied that 
it is lessened by experience. This might naturally lead us to 
expect, that the young and unpractised would be more disposed to 
perform beneficent actions, than those who are advanced in life, 

* The following reasoning was suggested to me by a passage in Butler’s Analogy, 
which the reader will find in note u at the end of the volume. 


OF IMAGINATION. 


277 

and who have been familiar with scenes of misery. And, in truth, 
the fact would be so, were it not that the effect of custom on this 
passive impression is counteracted by its effects on others; and, 
above all, by its influence in strengthening the active habit of 
beneficence. An old and experienced physician is less affected by 
the sight of bodily pain than a younger practitioner; but he has 
acquired a more confirmed habit of assisting the sick and helpless, 
and would offer greater violence to his nature, if he should withhold 
from them any relief that he has in his power to bestow. In this 
case we see a beautiful provision made for our moral improvement, 
as the effects of experience on one part of our constitution are made 
to counteract its effects on another. 

If the foregoing observations be well founded, it will follow, 
that [habits of virtue are not to be formed in retirement, but by 
mingling in the scenes of active life ; and that an habitual attention 
to exhibitions of fictitious distress, is not merely useless to the 
character, but positively hurtful.] 

It will not, I think, be disputed, that the frequent perusal of 
pathetic compositions diminishes the uneasiness which they are 
naturally fitted to excite. A person who indulges habitually in 
such studies, may feel a growing desire of his usual gratification, 
but he is every day less and less affected by the scenes which are 
presented to him. I believe it would be difficult to find an actor 
long hackneyed on the stage, who is capable of being completely 
interested by the distresses of a tragedy. The effect of such com¬ 
positions and representations, in rendering the mind callous to 
actual distress, is still greater; for as the imagination of the poet 
almost always carries him beyond truth and nature, a familiarity 
with the tragic scenes which he exhibits, can hardly fail to deaden 
the impression produced by the comparatively trifling sufferings 
which the ordinary course of human affairs presents to us. In 
real life a provision is made for this gradual decay of sensibility, by 
the proportional decay of other passive impressions, which have 
an opposite tendency, and by the additional force which our active 
habits are daily acquiring. Exhibitions of fictitious distress, while 
they produce the former change on the character, have no influence 
in producing the latter : on the contrary, they tend to strengthen 
those passive impressions which counteract beneficence. The 
scenes into which the novelist introduces us are, in general, 
perfectly unlike those which occur in the world. As his object is 
to please, he removes from his descriptions every circumstance 
which is disgusting, and presents us with histories of elegant 
and dignified distress. It is not such scenes that human life 
exhibits. We have to act, not with refined and elevated charac¬ 
ters, but with the mean, the illiterate, the vulgar, and the profligate. 
The perusal of fictitious history has a tendency to increase that 
disgust which we naturally feel at the concomitants of distress, and 
to cultivate a false refinement of taste, inconsistent with our con- 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


278 


dition as members of society. Nay, it is possible for this refine¬ 
ment to be carried so far as to withdraw a man from the duties of 
life, and even from the sight of those distresses which he might 
alleviate. And, accordingly, many are to be found, who if the 
situations of romance were realised, would not fail to display the 
virtues of their favourite characters, whose sense of duty is not 
sufficiently strong to engage them in the humble and private scenes 
of human misery. 

To these effects of fictitious history we may add, that it gives no 
exercise to our active habits. In real life, we proceed from the 
passive impression to those exertions which it was intended to 
produce. In the contemplation of imaginary sufferings, we stop 
short at the impression, and whatever benevolent dispositions we 
may feel, we have no opportunity of carrying them into action. 

From these reasonings it appears, that an habitual attention to 
exhibitions of fictitious distress, is in every view calculated to 
check our moral improvement. It diminishes that uneasiness 
which we feel at the sight of distress, and which prompts us to 
relieve it. It strengthens that disgust which the loathsome con¬ 
comitants of distress excite in the mind, and which prompts us to 
avoid the sight of misery ; while, at the same time, it has no 
tendency to confirm those habits of active beneficence, without 
which, the best dispositions are useless. I would not, however, be 
understood to disapprove entirely of fictitious narratives, or of 
pathetic compositions. On the contrary, I think that the perusal 
of them may be attended with advantage, when the effects which I 
have mentioned are corrected by habits of real business. They 
soothe the mind when ruffled by the rude intercourse of society, 
and stealing the attention insensibly from our own cares, substitute, 
instead of discontent and distress, a tender and pleasing melancholy. 
By exhibitions of characters a little elevated above the common 
standard, they have a tendency to cultivate the taste in life ; to 
quicken our disgust at what is mean or offensive, and to form the 
mind, insensibly, to elegance and dignity. Their tendency to 
cultivate the powers of moral perception has never been disputed; 
and when the influence of such perceptions is powerfully felt, and 
is united with an active and manly temper, they render the cha¬ 
racter not only more amiable, but more happy in itself, and more 
useful to others; for although a rectitude of j udgment with respect 
to conduct and strong moral feelings, do, by no means, alone con¬ 
stitute virtue ; yet they are frequently necessary to direct our 
behaviour in the more critical situations of life ; and they increase 
the interest we take in the general prosperity of virtue in the 
world. I believe, likewise, that, by means of fictitious history, 
displays of character may be most successfully given, and the 
various weaknesses of the heart exposed. I only mean to 
insinuate, that a taste for them may be carried too far; that the 
sensibility which terminates in imagination, is but a refined and 


OF IMAGINATION. 


279 

selfish luxury; and that nothing can effectually advance our moral 
improvement, but an attention to the active duties which belong to 
our stations. 

VI. Important Uses to which the Power of Imagination is subser¬ 
vient. —[The faculty of imagination is the great spring of human 
activity, and the principal source of human improvement. As it 
delights in presenting to the mind scenes and characters more per¬ 
fect than those which we are acquainted with, it prevents us from 
ever being completely satisfied with our present condition, or with 
our past attainments; and engages us continually in the pursuit of 
some untried enjoyment, or of some ideal excellence.] Hence the 
ardour of the selfish to better their fortunes, and to add to their 
personal accomplishments; and hence the zeal of the patriot and 
the philosopher to advance the virtue and the happiness of the 
human race. Destroy this faculty, and the condition of man will 
become as stationary as that of the brutes. 

When the notions of enjoyment or of excellence which imagina¬ 
tion has formed, are greatly raised above the ordinary standard, 
they interest the passions too deeply to leave us at all times the 
cool exercise of reason, and produce that state of the mind which 
is commonly known by the name of enthusiasm; a temper which 
is one of the most fruitful sources of error and disappointment; 
but which is a source, at the same time, of heroic actions and of 
exalted characters. To the exaggerated conceptions of eloquence 
which perpetually revolved in the mind of Cicero; to that idea 
which haunted his thoughts of aliqiiid immensum infinitumque ;* we 
are indebted for some of the most splendid displays of human 
genius; and it is probable that something of the same kind has 
been felt by every man who has risen much above the level of 
humanity, either in speculation or in action. It is happy for the 
individual, when these enthusiastic desires are directed to events 
which do not depend on the caprice of fortune. 

The pleasure we receive from the higher kinds of poetry takes 
rise, in part, from that dissatisfaction which the objects of imagina¬ 
tion inspire us with, for the scenes, the events, and the characters, 
with which our senses are conversant. Tired and disgusted with 
this world of imperfection, we delight to escape to another of the 
poet’s creation, where the charms of nature wear an eternal bloom, 
and where sources of enjoyment are opened to us, suited to the vast 
capacities of the human mind. On this natural love of poetical 
fiction. Lord Bacon has founded a very ingenious argument for the 
soul’s immortality; and, indeed, one of the most important pur¬ 
poses to which it is subservient, is to elevate the mind above the 
pursuits of our present condition, and to direct the views to higher 
objects. In the mean time, it is rendered subservient also, in an 
eminent degree, to the improvement and happiness of mankind, by 
the tendency which it has to accelerate the progress of society. 


* “ Something immense and infinite.” 


280 


PART I. 


CHAP. VIII. 


As the pictures which the poet presents to us are never (even in 
works of pure description) faithful copies from nature, but are 
always meant to be improvements on the original she affords, it 
cannot be doubted that they must have some effect in refining and 
exalting our taste, both with respect to material beauty, and to the 
objects of our pursuit in life. It has been alleged, that the works 
of our descriptive poets have contributed to diffuse that taste for 
picturesque beauty which is so prevalent in England, and to recall 
the public admiration from the fantastic decorations of art, to the 
more powerful and permanent charms of cultivated nature ; and it 
is certain that the first ardours of many an illustrious character 
have been kindled by the compositions of Homer and Virgil. It is 
difficult to say, to what a degree, in the earlier periods of society, 
the rude compositions of the bard and the minstrel may have been 
instrumental in humanizing the minds of savage warriors, and in 
accelerating the growth of cultivated manners. Among the Scan¬ 
dinavians and the Celtse we know that this order of men was held 
in very peculiar veneration ; and, accordingly, it would appear, from 
the monuments which remain of these nations, that they were dis¬ 
tinguished by a delicacy in the passion of love, and by a humanity 
and generosity to the vanquished in war, which seldom appear 
among barbarous tribes ; and with which it is hardly possible to 
conceive how men in such a state of society could have been 
inspired, but by a separate class of individuals in the community, 
who devoted themselves to the pacific profession of poetry, and to 
the cultivation of that creative power of the mind, which anticipates 
the course of human affairs; and presents, in prophetic vision, to 
the poet and the philosopher, the blessings which accompany the 
progress of reason and refinement. 

Nor must we omit to mention the important effects of imagination 
in multiplying the sources of innocent enjoyment beyond what this 
limited scene affords. Not to insist on the nobler efforts of genius, 
which have rendered this part of our constitution subservient to 
moral improvement; how much has the sphere of our happiness 
been extended by those agreeable fictions which introduce us to 
new worlds, and make us acquainted with new orders of being ! 
What a fund of amusement, through life, is prepared for one who 
reads in his childhood the fables of ancient Greece ! They dwell 
habitually on the memory, and are ready, at all times, to fill up the 
intervals of business, or of serious reflection ; and in his hours of 
rural retirement and leisure they warm his mind with the fire of 
ancient genius, and animate every scene he enters with the offspring 
of classical fancy. 

[It is, however, chiefly in painting future scenes that imagination 
loves to indulge herself, and her prophetic dreams are almost always 
favourable to happiness.] By an erroneous education, indeed, it is 
possible to render this faculty an instrument of constant and of 
exquisite distress ; but in such cases (abstracting from the influence 


OF IMAGINATION. 


281 


of a constitutional melancholy) the distresses of a gloomy imagina¬ 
tion are to be ascribed not to nature, but to the force of early 
impressions. 

The common bias of the mind undoubtedly is (such is the bene¬ 
volent appointment of Providence,) to think favourably of the 
future; to overvalue the chances of possible good, and to under¬ 
rate the risks of possible evil; and in the case of some fortunate 
individuals, this disposition remains after a thousand disappoint¬ 
ments. To what this bias of our nature is owing, it is not material 
for us to inquire : the fact is certain, and it is an important one to 
our happiness. It supports us under the real distresses of life, and 
cheers and animates all our labours: and although it is sometimes 
apt to produce, in a weak and indolent mind, those deceitful sug¬ 
gestions of ambition and vanity, which lead us to sacrifice the 
duties and the comforts of the present moment, to romantic hopes 
and expectations ; yet it must be acknowledged, when connected 
with habits of activity, and regulated by a solid judgment, to have 
a favourable effect on the character, by inspiring that ardour and 
enthusiasm which both prompt to great enterprises, and are neces¬ 
sary to ensure their success. When such a temper is united (as it 
commonly is) with pleasing notions concerning the order of the 
universe, and in particular concerning the condition and the pro¬ 
spects of man, it places our happiness, in a great measure, beyond 
the power of fortune. While it adds a double relish to every 
enjoyment, it blunts the edge of all our sufferings ; and even when 
human life presents to us no object on which our hopes can rest, 
it invites the imagination beyond the dark and troubled horizon 
which terminates all our earthly prospects, to wander unconfined in 
the regions of futurity. A man of benevolence, whose mind is 
enlarged by philosophy, will indulge the same agreeable anticipa¬ 
tions with Vespect to society ; will view all the different improve¬ 
ments in arts, in commerce, and in the sciences, as co-operating to 
promote the union, the happiness, and the virtue of mankind ; and, 
amidst the political disorders resulting from the prejudices and 
follies of his own times, will look forward, with transport, to the 
blessings which are reserved for posterity in a more enlightened age. 































- 





■ ’» 






. 


































PART SECOND. 


OF REASON, OR THE UNDERSTANDING PROPERLY SO CALLED; 
AND THE VARIOUS FACULTIES AND OPERATIONS MORE IMME¬ 
DIATELY CONNECTED WITH IT. 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 

On the vagueness and ambiguity of the common philosophical language 
relative to this part of our constitution.—Reason and reasoning ,—- 
understanding ,— intellect, — -judgment , Sfc. 

The power of Reason, of which I am now to treat, is unquestion¬ 
ably the most important by far of those which are comprehended 
under the general title of intellectual. It is on the right use of 
this power, that our success in the pursuit both of knowledge and 
of happiness depends; and it is by the exclusive possession of it 
that man is distinguished, in the most essential respects, from the 
lower animals. It is, indeed, from their subserviency to its opera¬ 
tions, that the other faculties, which have been hitherto under our 
consideration, derive their chief value. 

In proportion to the peculiar importance of this subject are its 
extent and its difficulty; both of them such as to lay me under a 
necessity, now that I am to enter on the discussion, to contract, in 
various instances, those designs in which I was accustomed to 
indulge myself, when I looked forward to it from a distance. The 
execution of them at present, even if I were more competent to 
the task, appears to me, on a closer examination, to be altogether 
incompatible with the comprehensiveness of the general plan which 
was sketched out in the advertisement prefixed to the First Part ;* 
and to the accomplishment of which I am anxious, in the first 
instance, to direct my efforts. If that undertaking should ever be 
completed, I may perhaps be able afterwards to offer additional 
illustrations of certain articles, which the limits of this part of my 
work prevent me from considering with the attention which they 
deserve. I should wish, in particular, to contribute something 
more than I can here introduce, towards a rational and practical 
system of logic, adapted to the present state of human knowledge, 
and to the real business of human life. 

“ What subject,” says Burke, “ does not branch out to infinity ! 
It is the nature of our particular scheme, and the single point of 
* Vide Preface. 




281 


PART II. 


view in which we consider it, which ought to put a stop to our 
researches.”* How forcibly does the remark apply to all those 
speculations which relate to the principles of the human mind! 

I have frequently had occasion, in the course of the foregoing 
disquisitions, to regret the obscurity in which this department of 
philosophy is involved, by the vagueness and ambiguity of words; 
and I have mentioned, at the same time, my unwillingness to 
attempt verbal innovations, wherever I could possibly avoid them, 
without essential injury to my argument. The rule which I have 
adopted in my own practice is, to give to every faculty and opera¬ 
tion of the mind its own appropriate name; following, in the 
selection of this name, the prevalent use of our best writers; and 
endeavouring afterwards, as far as I have been able, to employ each 
word exclusively, in that acceptation in which it has hitherto been 
used most generally. In the judgments which I have formed on 
points of this sort, it is more than probable that I may sometimes 
have been mistaken; but the mistake is of little consequence, if I 
myself have invariably annexed the same meaning to the same 
phrase;—an accuracy which I am not so presumptuous as to ima¬ 
gine that I have uniformly attained, but which I am conscious of 
having, at least, uniformly attempted. How far I have succeeded, 
they alone who have followed my reasonings with a very critical 
attention are qualified to determine; for it is not by the statement 
of formal definitions, but by the habitual use of precise and appro¬ 
priate language, that I have endeavoured to fix in my reader’s 
mind the exact import of my expressions. 

In appropriating, however, particular words to particular ideas, I 
do not mean to censure the practice of those who may have under¬ 
stood them in a sense different from that which I annex to them; 
but I found that, without such an appropriation, I could not explain 
my notions respecting the human mind, with any tolerable degree 
of distinctness. This scrupulous appropriation of terms, if it can 
be called an innovation, is the only one which I have attempted to 
introduce; for in no instance have I presumed to annex a philoso¬ 
phical meaning to a technical word belonging to this branch of 
science, without having previously shown, that it has been used in 
the same sense by good writers, in some passages of their works. 
After doing this, I hope I shall not be accused of affectation, when 
I decline to use it in any of the other acceptations in which, from 
carelessness or from want of precision, they may have been led 
occasionally to employ it. 

Some remarkable instances of vagueness and ambiguity in the 
employment of words, occur in that branch of my subject of which 
I am now to treat. The word reason itself is far from being pre¬ 
cise in its meaning. In common and popular discourse, it denotes 
that power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, and right 
from wrong; and by which we are enabled to combine means for 

* Conclusion of the Inquiry into the Sublime and the Beautiful. 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 


285 

the attainment of particular ends. Whether these different capa¬ 
cities are, with strict logical propriety, referred to the same power, 
is a question which I shall examine in another part of my work; 
but that they are all included in the idea which is generally annexed 
to the word reason, there can be no doubt; and the case, so far as 
I know, is the same with the corresponding term in all languages 
whatever. The fact probably is, that this word was first employed 
to comprehend the principles, whatever they are, by which man is 
distinguished from the brutes ; and afterwards came to be somewhat 
limited in its meaning, by the more obvious conclusions concerning 
the nature of that distinction, which present themselves to the com¬ 
mon sense of mankind. It is in this enlarged meaning that it is 
opposed to instinct, by Pope : 

And reason raise o’er instinct as you can ; 

In this, *tis God directs, in that ’tis man.” 


It was thus, too, that Milton plainly understood the term, when 
he remarked, that smiles imply the exercise of reason : 

- “ Smiles from reason flow, 

To brutes denied : ” 

And still more explicitly in these noble lines : 

“ There wanted yet the master-work, the end 
Of all yet done ; a creature who, not prone 
And brute as other creatures, but endued 
With sanctity of Reason, might erect 
His stature, and upright with front serene 
Govern the rest, self-knowing ; and from thence, 

Magnanimous, to correspond with heaven ; 

But, grateful to acknowledge whence his good 
Descends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes 
Directed in devotion, to adore 
And worship God Supreme, who made him chief 
Of all his works.” 

I 

Among the various characteristics of humanity the power of 
devising means to accomplish ends, together with the power of 
distinguishing truth from falsehood, and right from wrong, are 
obviously the most conspicuous and important: and accordingly it 
is to these that the word reason, even in its most comprehensive 
acceptation, is now exclusively restricted.* 

* This, I think, is the meaning which most naturally presents itself to common 
readers, when the word reason occurs in authors not affecting to aim at any nice 
logical distinctions ; and it is certainly the meaning which must be annexed to it, in 
some of the most serious and important arguments in which it has ever been employed. 
In the following passage, for example, where Mr. Locke fcontrasts the light of reason 
with that of revelation, he plainly proceeds on the supposition, that it is competent to 
appeal to the former, as affording a standard of right and wrong, not less than of 
speculative truth and falsehood ; nor can there be a doubt that, when he speaks of 
truth as the object of natural reason, it was principally, if not wholly, moral truth, 
which he had in his view : “ Reason is natural revelation, whereby the eternal Father 
of Light, and fountain of all knowledge, communicates to mankind that portion of 
truth which he has laid within the reach of their natural faculties. Revelation is 



PART II. 


286 

By some philosophers, the meaning of the word has been of late 
restricted still farther; to the power by which we distinguish truth 
from falsehood, and combine means for the accomplishment of our 
purposes;—the capacity of distinguishing right from wrong, being 
referred to a separate principle or faculty, to which different names 
have been assigned in different ethical theories. Ihe following 
passage from Mr. Hume contains one of the most explicit state¬ 
ments of this limitation which I can recollect: “ Thus, the distinct 
boundaries and offices of reason and of taste are easily ascertained. 
The former conveys the knowledge of truth and falsehood ; the lat¬ 
ter gives the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice and virtue. 
Beason, being cool and disengaged, is no motive to action, and 
directs only the impulse received from appetite or inclination, by 
showing us the means of attaining happiness or avoiding miseiy. 
Taste, as it gives pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happiness 
or misery, becomes a motive to action, and is the first spring or 
impulse to desire and volition.” (Essays and Treatises, &c. Appen¬ 
dix, concerning Moral Sentiment.) 

On the justness of this statement of Mr. Hume, I have no 
remarks to offer here; as my sole object in quoting it was to illus¬ 
trate the different meanings annexed to the word reason by different 
writers. It will appear afterwards, that, in consequence of this 
circumstance, some controversies, which have been keenly agitated 
about the principles of morals, resolve entirely into verbal disputes ; 
or at most, into questions of arrangement and classification, of little 
comparative moment to the points at issue.* 

natural reason, enlarged by a new set of discoveries, communicated by God imme¬ 
diately, which reason vouches the truth of, by the testimony and proofs it gives that 
they come from God. So that he who takes away reason to make way for revelation, 
puts out the light of both, and does much the same as if he would persuade a man to 
put out his eyes, the better to receive the remote light of an invisible star by a tele¬ 
scope.”—Locke’s Essay, b. iv. c. 19. 

A passage still more explicit for my present purpose occurs in the pleasing and 
philosophical conjectui’es of Huygens, concerning the planetary worlds. “Positis 
vero ejusmodi planetarum incolis ratione utentibus, quseri adhuc potest, anne idem 
illic, atque apud nos, sit hoc quod rationem vocamus. Quod quidem ita esse omnino 
dicendum videtur, neque aliter fieri posse : sive usum rationis in his consideremus 
quse ad mores et sequitatem pertinent, sive in iis quae spectant. ad. principia e.t funda- 
menta scientiarum. Etenim ratio apud nos est, quae sensum justitiae, honesti, laudis, 
clementiae, gratitudinis ingenerat, mala ac bona in universum discernere docet: 
quaeque ad haec animum disciplinse, multorumque inventorum capacem reddit, ’ 
&c. &c.—Hugenii Opera Varia, vol. ii. p. 663. Lugd. Batav. 1724.—[It being 
assumed that there are reasoning inhabitants of the planets, a question may arise 
whether their reason be the same with that which we call reason. On which point it 
may be laid down that it is so, and that it cannot be otherwise ; whether we regard 
the scope of reason with reference to those things which regard morals and equity, or 
those connected with the principles and foundations of knowledge. For with us reason 
is that which produces a sense of justice, decorum, praise, clemency, gratitude ; 
teaches in general to discern good and evil, and besides renders the mind capable of 
education, and various inventions.] 

* In confirmation of this remark, I shall only quote at present a few sentences 
from an excellent discoui'se by Dr. Adams, of Oxford, on the nature and obligations 
of virtue. “ Nothing can bring us under an obligation to do what appears to our 
moral judgment wrong. It may be supposed our interest to do this ; but it cannot 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 


287 

Another ambiguity in the word reason, it is of still greater con¬ 
sequence to point out at present; an ambiguity which leads us to 
confound our rational powers in general, with that particular branch 
of them, known among logicians by the name of the discursive 
faculty. The affinity between the words reason and reasoning, 
sufficiently accounts for this inaccuracy in common and popular 
language; although it cannot fail to appear obvious, on the slightest 
reflection, that, in strict propriety, reasoning only expresses one of 
the various functions or operations of reason ; and that an extraor¬ 
dinary capacity for the former by no means affords a test by which 
the other constituent elements of the latter may be measured.* 
Nor is it to common and popular language that this inaccuracy is 
confined. It has extended itself to the systems of some of our most 
acute philosophers, and has, in various instances, produced an appa¬ 
rent diversity of opinion where there was little or none in reality. 

“No hypothesis,” says Dr. Campbell, “hitherto invented, hath 
shown that, by means of the discursive faculty, without the aid of 
any other mental power, we could ever obtain a notion of either 
the beautiful or the good.” (Philosophy of Rhetoric.) The remark 
is undoubtedly true, and may be applied to all those systems which 
ascribe to reason the origin of our moral ideas, if the expressions 
reason and discursive faculty be used as synonymous. But it was 
assuredly not in this restricted acceptation, that the word reason 
was understood by those ethical writers at whose doctrines this 
criticism seems to have been pointed by the ingenious author. 
That the discursive faculty alone is sufficient to account for the 
origin of our moral ideas, I do not know that any theorist, ancient 
or modern, has yet ventured to assert. 

Yarious other philosophical disputes might be mentioned, which 
would be at once brought to a conclusion, if this distinction between 
reason and the power of reasoning were steadily kept in view.f 

be supposed our duty. Power may compel, interest may bribe, pleasure may persuade; 
but reason only can oblige. This is the only authority which rational beings can own 
and to which they owe obedience.’' 

It must appear perfectly obvious to every reader, that the apparent difference of 
opinion between this writer and Mr. Hume, turns chiefly on the different degrees of 
latitude with which they have used the word reason. Of the two, there cannot be a 
doubt that Dr. Adams has adhered by far the most faithfully not only to its accepta¬ 
tion in the works of our best English authors, but to the acceptation of the corre¬ 
sponding term in the ancient languages. “ Est quidem vera lex, recta ratio—quae 
vocet ad officium, jubendo ; vetando, a fraude deterreat,” &c. &c. 

* « The two most different things in the world,” says Locke, “are, a logical chicaner, 
and a man of reason.”—Conduct of the Understanding, §. 3. 

f It is curious, that Dr. Johnson has assigned to this very limited, and (according 
to present usage) very doubtful interpretation of the word reason, the first place in his 
enumeration of its various meanings, as if he had thought it the sense in which it is 
most properly and correctly employed. “Reason,” he tells us, “is the power by 
which man deduces one proposition from another, or proceeds from premises to conse¬ 
quences.” The authority which he has quoted for this definition is still more curious, 
being manifestly altogether inapplicable to his purpose. “ Reason is the director of 
man’s will, discovering in action what is good ; for the laws of well-doing are the 
dictates of right reason.”—Hooker. 

In the sixth article of the same enumeration, he states, as a distinct meaning of the 


PART n. 


288 

In the use which I make of the word reason, in the title of the 
following disquisitions, I employ it in a manner to which no philo¬ 
sopher can object—to denote merely the power by which we dis¬ 
tinguish truth from falsehood, and combine means for the attainment 
of our ends: omitting for the present all consideration of that 
function which many have ascribed to it, of distinguishing right 
from wrong; without, however, presuming to call in question the 
accuracy of those by whom the term has been thus explained. 
Under the title of Reason, I shall consider also whatever faculties 
and operations appear to be more immediately and essentially con¬ 
nected with the discovery of truth, or the attainment of the objects 
of our pursuit,—more particularly the power of reasoning or deduc¬ 
tion ; but distinguishing, as carefully as I can, our capacity of carry¬ 
ing on this logical process, from those more comprehensive powers 
which reason is understood to imply. 

The latitude with which this word has been so universally used, 
seemed to recommend it as a convenient one for a general title, of 
which the object is rather comprehension than precision. In the 
discussion of particular questions, I shall avoid the employment of 
it as far as I am able ; and shall endeavour to select other modes of 
speaking, more exclusively significant of the ideas which I wish to 
convey. * 

same word, “ Ratiocination ; discursive power.” What possible difference could he con¬ 
ceive between this signification and that above quoted ? The authority, however, 
which he produces for this last explanation is worth transcribing. It is a passage 
from Sir John Davies, where that fanciful writer states a distinction between reason 
and understanding ; to which he seems to have been led by a conceit founded on their 
respective etymologies. 

“ When she rates things, and moves from ground to ground, • 

The name of Reason she obtains by this ; 

But when by Reason she the truth hath found, 

And standeth fix’d, she Understanding is.” 

The adjective reasonable, as employed in our language, is not liable to the same 
ambiguity with the substantive from which it is derived. It denotes a chai*acter in 
which reason, (taking that word in its largest acceptation,) possesses a decided 
ascendant over the temper and the passions; and implies no particular propensity 
to a display of the discursive power, if indeed it does not exclude the idea of such a 
propensity. In the following stanza, Pope certainly had no view to the logical talents 
of the lady, whom he celebrates :— 

“ I know a thing that’s most uncommon, 

(Envy, be silent and attend) 

I know a reasonable woman, 

Handsome and witty, yet a friend.” 

Of this reasonable woman, we may venture to conjecture, with some confidence, that 
she did not belong to the class of those femmes raisonneuses , so happily described by 
Moliere : 

“ Raisonner est l’emploi de toute ma maison, 

Et le raisonnement en bannit la raison.’ ’ 

“ Reasoning is the employment of all my household, 

And reasoning has banished reason from it.” 

* Mr. Locke too has prefixed the same title, Of Reason, to the 17th chapter of his 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 


289 


Another instance of the vagueness and indistinctness of the com¬ 
mon language of logicians, in treating of this part of the Philoso¬ 
phy of the Human Mind, occurs in the word Understanding. In its 
popular sense, it seems to be very nearly synonymous with reason, 
when that word is used most comprehensively; and is seldom or 
never applied to any of our faculties but such as are immediately 
subservient to the investigation of truth, or to the regulation of our 
conduct. In this sense, it is so far from being understood to com¬ 
prehend the powers of imagination, fancy and wit, that it is often 
stated in direct opposition to them; as in the common maxim, that 
a sound understanding and a warm imagination are seldom united 
in the same person. But philosophers, without rejecting this use 
of the word, very generally employ it, with far greater latitude, to 
comprehend all the powers which I have enumerated under the 
title of intellectual: referring to it imagination, memory, and per¬ 
ception, as well as the faculties to which it is appropriated in popular 
discourse, and which it seems indeed most properly to denote. It 
is in this manner that it is used by Mr. Locke in his celebrated 
Essay; and by all the logicians who follow the common division 
of our mental powers into those of the understanding and those of 
the will. 

In mentioning this ambiguity, I do not mean to cavil at the 
phraseology of the writers from whom it has derived its origin, but 
only to point it out as a circumstance which may deserve attention 
in some of our future disquisitions. The division of our powers 
which has led to so extraordinary an extension of the usual meaning 
of language, has an obvious foundation in the constitution of our 
nature, and furnishes an arrangement which seems indispensable 

Fourth Book, using the word in a sense nearly coinciding with that very extensive 
one which I wish my readers to annex to it here. 

After observing, that by reason he means “ that faculty whereby man is supposed 
to be distinguished from brutes, and wherein it is evident he much surpasses them ; ” 
he adds, that “ we may in reason consider these four degrees ;—the first and highest 
is the discovering and finding out of proofs; the second, the regular and methodical 
disposition of them, and laying them in a clear and fit order, to make their connexion 
and force be plainly and easily perceived ; the third is the perceiving their connexion ; 
and the fourth is making a right conclusion.” 

Dr. Reid’s authority for this use of the word is equally explicit: “ The power of 
reasoning is very nearly allied to that of judging. We include both under the name 
of reason.”—Intellect. Powers, Essay VII. Chap. I. § i. 8vo. edit. 1843. 

Another authority to the same purpose is furnished by Milton : 

-“ Whence the soul 

Reason receives ; and reason is her being— 

— Discursive or intuitive.” Par. Lost, b. v. 1. 486. 

[I presume that Milton, who was a logician as well as a poet, means by the words 
her being, her essential or characters tical endowment.] 

To these quotations I shall only add a sentence from a very judicious French 
writer ; which I am tempted to introduce here, less on account of the sanction which 
it gives to my own phraseology, than of the importance of the truth which it conveys. 

“ Reason is commonly employed as an instrument to acquire the sciences ; whereas, 
on the conti’ary, the sciences ought to be made use of as an instrument to give reason 
its perfection.”—L’Art de Penser, translated by Ozell, p. 2. London, 171”. 

u 



290 


PART II. 


for an accurate examination of the subject: nor was it unnatural to 
bestow on those faculties which are all subservient in one way or 
another to the right exercise of the understanding, the name of that 
power, from their relation to which their chief value arises. 

As the word understanding, however, is one of those which occur 
very frequently in philosophical arguments, it may be of some use 
to disengage it from the ambiguity just remarked; and it is on this 
account that I have followed the example of some late writers, in 
distinguishing the two classes of powers which were formerly refer¬ 
red to the understanding and to the will, by calling the former 
intellectual, and the latter active. The terms cognitive and motive 
were long ago proposed for the same purpose by Hobbes ; but they 
never appear to have come into general use, and are indeed liable 
to obvious objections. 

[It has probably been owing to the very comprehensive meaning 
annexed in philosophical treatises to the word understanding, that 
the use of it has so frequently been supplied of late by intellect. 
The two words, as they are commonly employed, seem to be very 
nearly, if not exactly, synonymous; and the latter possesses the 
advantage of being quite unequivocal, having never acquired that 
latitude of application of which the former admits.] The adjective 
intellectual, indeed, has had its meaning extended as far as the 
substantive understanding; but, as it can be easily dispensed with 
in our particular arguments, it may, without inconvenience, be 
adopted as a distinctive epithet, where nothing is aimed at but to 
mark, in simple and concise language, a very general and obvious 
classification. The word intellect can be of no essential use what¬ 
ever, if the ambiguity in the signification of the good old English 
word understanding be avoided; and as to intellection, which a late 
very acute writer* has attempted to introduce, I can see no advan¬ 
tage attending it, which at all compensates for the addition of a new 
and uncouth term to a phraseology which, even in its most simple 
and unaffected form, is so apt to revolt the generality of readers. 

The only other indefinite word which I shall take notice of in 
these introductory remarks is judgment; and, in doing so, I shall 
confine myself to such of its ambiguities as are more peculiarly 
connected with our present subject. In some cases, its meaning 
seems to approach to that of understanding; as in the nearly syno¬ 
nymous phrases, a sound understanding, and a sound judgment. 
If there be any difference between these two modes of expression, 
it appears to me to consist chiefly in this, that the former implies a 
greater degree of positive ability than the latter; which indicates 
rather an exemption from those biasses which lead the mind astray, 
than the possession of any uncommon reach of capacity. To under¬ 
standing we apply the epithets strong, vigorous, comprehensive, 
profound .* to judgment, those of correct, cool, unprejudiced, impar- 

* Dr. Campbell. See his Philosophy of Rhetoric, vol. i. p. 103, 1st edit. 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 291 

tial, solid. It was jn this sense that the word seems to have been 
understood by Pope, in the following couplet:— 

“ 'Tis with our judgments as our watches ; none 
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.” 


For this meaning of the word, its primitive and literal applica¬ 
tion to the judicial decision of a tribunal accounts sufficiently. 

Agreeably to the same fundamental idea, the name of judgment 
is given with peculiar propriety to those acquired powers of dis¬ 
cernment which characterize a skilful critic in the fine arts ; powers 
which depend, in a very great degree, on a temper of mind free 
from the undue influence of authority and of casual associations. 
The power of taste itself is frequently denoted by the appellation 
of judgment; and a person who possesses a more than ordinary 
share of it is said to be a judge in those matters which fall under 
its cognizance. 

The meaning annexed to the word by logical writers is con¬ 
siderably different from this; denoting one of the simplest acts or 
operations of which we are conscious, in the exercise of our rational 
powers. In this acceptation, it does not admit of definition, any 
more than sensation, will, or belief. All that can be done, in such 
cases, is to describe the occasions on which the operation takes place, 
so as to direct the attention of others to their own thoughts. With 
this view, it may be observed, in the present instance, that when 
we give our assent to a mathematical axiom; or when, after perusing 
the demonstration of a theorem, we assent to the conclusion; or, in 
general, when we pronounce concerning the truth or falsity of any 
proposition, or the probability or improbability of any event, the 
power by which we are enabled to perceive what is true or false, 
probable or improbable, is called by logicians the faculty of judg¬ 
ment. The same word, too, is frequently used to express the par¬ 
ticular acts of this power, as when the decision,of the understanding 
on any question is called a judgment of the mind. 

In treatises of logic, judgment is commonly defined to be an act 
of the mind, by which one thing is affirmed or denied of another; 
a definition which, though not unexceptionable, is perhaps less so 
than most that have been given on similar occasions. Its defect, 
as Dr. Reid has remarked, consists in this;—that although it be by 
affirmation or denial that we express our judgments to others, yet 
judgment is a solitary act of the mind, to which this affirmation or 
denial is not essential ; and, therefore, if the definition be admitted, 
it must be understood of mental affirmation or denial only; in 
which case, we do no more than substitute, instead of the thing 
defined, another mode of speaking perfectly synonymous. The 
definition has, however, notwithstanding this imperfection, the 
merit of a conciseness and perspicuity not often to be found in the 
attempts of logicians to explain our intellectual operations. 

Mr. Locke seems disposed to restrict the word judgment to that 

u 2 


292 


PART If. 


faculty which pronounces concerning the verisimilitude of doubtful 
propositions; employing the word knowledge to express the faculty 
which perceives the truth of propositions, either intuitively or de¬ 
monstratively certain. “ The faculty which God has given man to 
supply the want of clear and certain knowledge in cases where that 
cannot be had, is judgment; whereby the mind takes its ideas to 
agree or disagree; or, which is the same thing, any proposition to 
be true or false, without perceiving a demonstrative evidence in 
the proofs. 

“ Thus the mind has two faculties conversant about truth and 
falsehood. 

“ First, knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is undoubt¬ 
edly satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of any ideas. 

“ Secondly, judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or 
separating them from one another in the mind, when their agree¬ 
ment or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to be so; 
which is, as the word imports, taken to be so before it certainly 
appears. And if it so unites, or separates them as in reality things 
are, it is right judgment.” (Essay on the Human Understanding, 
book iv. chap. 14.) 

For this limitation in the definition of judgment, some pretence 
is afforded by the literal signification of the word when applied 
to the decision of a tribunal; and also, by its metaphorical applica¬ 
tion to the decisions of the mind on those critical questions which 
fall under the province of taste. But, considered as a technical or 
scientific term of logic, the practice of our purest and most correct 
writers sufficiently sanctions the most enlarged sense in which I 
have explained it; and, if I do not much deceive myself, this use 
of it will be found more favourable to philosophical distinctness 
than Mr. Locke’s language, which leads to an unnecessary multi¬ 
plication of our intellectual powers. What good reason can be 
given for assigning one name to the faculty which perceives truths 
that are certain, and another name to the faculty which perceives 
truths that are probable? Would it not be equally proper to dis¬ 
tinguish, by different names, the power by which we perceive one 
proposition to be true, and another to be false ? 

As to knowledge, I do not think that it can, with propriety, be 
contrasted with judgment; nor do I apprehend that it is at all agree¬ 
able, either to common use or to philosophical accuracy, to speak 
of knowledge as a faculty. To me it seems rather to denote the 
possession of those truths about which our faculties have been pre¬ 
viously employed, than any separate power of the understanding 
by which truth is perceived.* 

* In attempting thus to fix the logical import of various words in our language 
which are apt to be confounded, in popular speech, with reason, and also with 
reasoning, some of my readers may be surprised that I have said nothing about the 
word wisdom. The truth is, that the notion expressed by this term, as it is employed 
by our best writers, seems to presuppose the influence of some principles, the con¬ 
sideration of which belongs to a different part of my work. In confirmation of this it 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 


293 


Before concluding these preliminary remarks, I cannot help 
expressing my regret that the subject on which I am about to enter 
will so frequently lay me under the necessity of criticising the 
language, and of disputing the opinions, of my predecessors. In 
doing so, I am not conscious of being at all influenced by a wish to 
indulge myself in the captiousness of controversy; nor am I much 
afraid of this imputation from any of my readers who shall honour 
these speculations with an attentive perusal. My real aim is, in 
the first place, to explain the grounds of my own deviations ; and, 
secondly, to facilitate the progress of such as may follow me in the 
same path, by directing their attention to these points of divergency 
in the way, which may suggest matter for doubt or hesitation. I 
know, at the same time, that, in the opinion of many, the best mode 
of unfolding the principles of a science is to state them system¬ 
atically and concisely, without any historical retrospects whatever ; 
and I believe the opinion is well-founded in those departments of 
knowledge, where the difficulty arises less from vague ideas and 
indefinite terms, than from the length of the logical chain which the 
student has to trace. But in such disquisitions as we are now 
engaged in, it is chiefly from the gradual correction of verbal 
ambiguities, and the gradual detection of unsuspected prejudices, 
that a progressive, though slow, approximation to truth is to be 
expected. It is indeed a slow approximation, at best, that we can 
hope to accomplish at present, in the examination of a subject 
where so many powerful causes (particularly those connected with 


may be remarked, that whereas the province of our reasoning powers (in their appli¬ 
cation to the business of life) is limited to the choice of means, wisdom denotes a 
power of a more comprehensive nature, and of a higher order ; a power which implies 
a judicious selection both of means and of ends. It is very precisely defined by Sir 
William Temple to be “that which makes men judge what are the best ends, and 
what the best means to attain them.” 

Of these two modifications of wisdom, the one denotes a power of the mind which 
obviously falls under the view of the logician; the examination of the other as 
obviously belongs to ethics. 

A distinction similar to this was plainly in the mind of Cudworth when he wrote 
the following passage, which, although drawn from the purest sources of ancient 
philosophy, will, I doubt not, from the uncouthness of the phraseology, have the 
appearance of extravagance to many in the present times. To myself it appears to 
point at a fact of the highest importance in the moral constitution of man. 

“ We have all of us by nature fxavrev/xa t i (as both Plato and Aristotle call it) a 
certain divination, presage, and parturient vaticination in our minds, of some higher 
good and perfection than either power or knowledge. Knowledge is plainly to be 
preferred before power, as being that which guides and directs its blind force and 
impetus ; but Aristotle himself declares that there is Aoyov r t /cpe?TTor, which is \oyov 
apxv ; “ something better than reason and knowledge, which is the principle and 
original of it. For,” saith he, “ Aoyov apxv ov Aoyos, aWa ti Kpeirrou. The principle 
(or origin) of reason is not reason, but something better.”—Intellectual System, p. 203. 

Lord Shaftesbury has expressed the same truth more simply and perspicuously in 
that beautiful sentence which occurs moi*e than once in his writings : “ True wisdom 
comes more from the heart than from the head.” Numberless illustrations of this 
profound maxim must immediately crowd on the memory of all who are conversant 
with the most enlightened works on the theory of legislation ; more particularly 
with those which appeared, during the eighteenth century, on the science of political 
economy. 


294 


PART II. 


the imperfections of language) conspire to lead us astray. But the 
study of the human mind is not, on that account, to be abandoned. 
Whoever compares its actual state with that in which Bacon, Des 
Cartes, and Locke found it, must be sensible how amply their efforts 
for its improvement have been repaid, both by their own attain¬ 
ments, and by those of others who have since profited by their 
example. I am willing to hope that some useful hints for its far¬ 
ther advancement may be derived even from my own researches; 
and, distant as the prospect may be of raising it to a level with the 
physical science of the Newtonian school, by uniting the opinions 
of speculative men about fundamental principles, my ambition as 
an author will be fully gratified, if, by the few who are competent 
to judge, I shall be allowed to have contributed my share, however 
small, towards the attainment of so great an object. 

In the discussions which immediately follow, no argument will, 
I trust, occur beyond the reach of those who shall read them with 
the attention which every inquiry into the human mind indispens¬ 
ably requires. I have certainly endeavoured, to the utmost of my 
abilities to render every sentence which I have written, not only 
intelligible but perspicuous: and, where I have failed in the 
attempt, the obscurity will, I hope, be imputed, not to an affectation 
of mystery, but to some error of judgment. I can, without much 
vanity, say, that with less expense of thought, I could have rivalled 
the obscurity of Kant; and that the invention of a new technical 
language, such as that which he has introduced, would have been 
an easier task than the communication of clear and precise notions 
(if I have been so fortunate as to succeed in this communication), 
without departing from the established modes of expression. 

To the following observations of D’Alembert (with some trifling 
verbal exceptions) I give my most cordial assent; and, mortifying 
as they may appear to the pretensions of bolder theorists, I should be 
happy to see them generally recognised as canons of philosophical 
criticism: “ Truth in metaphysics resembles truth in matters of 
taste. In both cases, the seeds of it exist in every mind; though 
few think of attending to this latent treasure, till it be pointed out 
to them by more curious inquirers. It should seem that every thing 
we learn from a good metaphysical book is only a sort of reminis¬ 
cence of what the mind previously knew. The obscurity, of which 
we are apt to complain in this science, may be always justly ascribed 
to the author; because the information which he professes to com¬ 
municate requires no technical language appropriated to itself. 
Accordingly, we may apply to good metaphysical authors what has 
been said of those who excel in the art of writing, that, in reading 
them, every body is apt to imagine that he himself could have 
written in the same manner. 

“ But, in this sort of speculation, if all are qualified to under¬ 
stand, all are not fitted to teach. The merit of accommodating 
easily to the apprehension of others, notions which are at once 


PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 


295 


simple and just, appears, from its extreme rarity, to be much 
greater than is commonly imagined. Sound metaphysical principles 
are truths which every one is ready to seize, but which few men 
have the talent of unfolding; so difficult is it in this, as veil as in 
other instances to appropriate to one’s self what seems to be the 
common inheritance of the human race.”* 

I am, at the same time, fully aware, that whoever, in treating of 
the human mind, aims to be understood, must lay his account with 
forfeiting, in the opinion of a very large proportion of readers, all 
pretensions to depth, to subtlety, or to invention. The acquisition 
of a new nomenclature is, in itself, no inconsiderable reward to the 
industry of those who study only from motives of literary vanity ; 
and, if D’Alembert’s idea of this branch of science be just, the 
wider an author deviates from truth, the more likely are his con¬ 
clusions to assume the appearance of discoveries. I may add, that 
it is chiefly in those discussions which possess the best claims to 
originality, where he may expect to be told by the multitude, that 
they have learned from him nothing but what they knew before. 

The latitude with which the word metaphysics is frequently used, 
makes it necessary for me to remark, with respect to the foregoing 
passage from D’Alembert, that he limits the term entirely to an 
account of the origin of our ideas. “ The generation of our ideas,” 
he tells us, “ belongs to metaphysics. It forms one of the principal 
objects, and perhaps ought to form the sole object of that science.”! 
—If the meaning of the word be extended, as it too often is in our 
language, so as to comprehend all those inquiries which relate to 
the theory and to the improvement of our mental powers, some of 
his observations must be understood with very important restric¬ 
tions. What he has stated, however, on the inseparable connexion 
between perspicuity of style and soundness of investigation in 
metaphysical disquisitions, will be found to hold equally in every 
research to which that epithet can, with any colour of propriety, 
be applied. 

* “ Le vrai en metaphysique resserable au vrai en mattere de gofit; c’est un vrai 
dont tous les esprits ont le germe en eux-m£mes, auquel la plupart ne font point 
d’attention, mais qu’ils reconnoissent d£s qu’on le leur raontre. II semble que tout ce 
qu’on apprend dans un bon livre de metaphysique, ne soit qu’une esptice de reminiscence 
de ce que notre ame a d6ja su ; l’obscurite, quand il y en a, vient toujours de la faute 
de l’auteur, parce que la science qu’il se propose d’enseigner n’a point d’autre langue 
que la langue commune. Aussi peut-on appliquer aux bons auteurs de metaphysique 
ce qu’on a dit des bons dcrivains, qu’il n’y a personne qui en les lisant, ne croie 
pouvoir en dire autant qu’eux. 

“ Mais si dans ce genre tous sont faits pour entendre, tous ne sont pas faits pour in- 
struire. Le merite de faire entrer avec facilite dans les esprits des notions vraies et 
simples, est beaucoup plus grand qu’on ne pense, puisque 1’experience nous prouve 
combien il est rare ; les saines idees metaphysiques sont des verites communes que cha- 
cun saisit, mais que peu d’hommes ont le talent de developper ; tant il est difficile, dans 
quelque sujet que se puisse etre, de se rendre propre ce qui appartient a tout le 
monde.”—Elemens de Philosophic. 

*|- “ La generation de nos idees appartient a la metaphysique ; c’est un de ses objets 
principaux, et peut-etre devroit elle s’y borner.”—Ibid. 


296 


PART II. 


CHAP. I* 


CHAPTER I. 

OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF ; OR THE PRIMARY 
ELEMENTS OF HUMAN REASON. 

The propriety of the title prefixed to this Chapter will, I trust, be 
justified sufficiently by the speculations which are to follow. As 
these differ, in some essential points, from the conclusions of former 
writers, I found myself under the necessity of abandoning, in various 
instances, their phraseology;—but my reasons for the particular 
changes which I have made, cannot possibly be judged of, or even 
understood, till the inquiries by w T hich I was led to adopt them be 
carefully examined. 

I begin with a review of some of those primary truths, a convic¬ 
tion of which is necessarily implied in all our thoughts and in all 
our actions; and which seem, on that account, rather to form con¬ 
stituent and essential elements of reason, than objects 'with which 
reason is conversant. The import of this last remark will appear 
more clearly afterwards. 

The primary truths to which I mean to confine my attention at 
present are, 1. Mathematical axioms : 2. Truths (or, more properly 
speaking, laws of belief,) inseparably connected with the exercise 
of consciousness, perception, memory, and reasoning.—Of some 
additional laws of belief, the truth of which is tacitly recognised in 
all our reasonings concerning contingent events, I shall have occa¬ 
sion to take notice under a different article. 

I. Of Mathematical Axioms .—I have placed this class of truths 
at the head of the enumeration, merely because they seem likely, 
from the place which they hold in the elements of geometry, to 
present to my readers a more interesting, and at the same time an 
easier subject of discussion, than some of the more abstract and 
latent elements of our knowledge, afterwards to be considered. In 
other respects, a different arrangement might perhaps have pos¬ 
sessed some advantages, in point of strict logical method. 

On the evidence of mathematical axioms it is unnecessary to 
enlarge, as the controversies to which they have given occasion are 
entirely of a speculative, or rather scholastic description; and have 
no tendency to affect the certainty of that branch of science to which 
they are supposed to be subservient. 

It must at the same time be confessed, with respect to this class 
of propositions (and the same remark may be extended to axioms 
in general), that some of the logical questions connected with them 
continue still to be involved in much obscurity. In proportion to 
their extreme simplicity is the difficulty of illustrating or of describ¬ 
ing their nature in unexceptionable language; or even of ascertain¬ 
ing a precise criterion by which they may be distinguished fronj 
other truths which approach to them nearly. It is chiefly owing 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 297 

to this, that, in geometry, there are no theorems of which it is so 
difficult to give a rigorous demonstration as those of which persons 
unacquainted with the nature of mathematical evidence are apt to 
say, that they require no proof whatever. But the inconveniences 
arising from these circumstances are of trifling moment; occasion¬ 
ing, at the worst, some embarrassment to those mathematical writers 
who are studious of the most finished elegance in their exposition 
of elementary principles ; or to metaphysicians, anxious to display 
their subtilty upon points which cannot possibly lead to any prac¬ 
tical conclusion. 

It was long ago remarked by Locke, of the axioms of geometry, 
as stated by Euclid, that although the proposition be at first 
enunciated in general terms, and afterwards appealed to, in its 
particular applications, as a principle, previously examined and 
admitted, yet that the truth is not less evident in the latter case 
than in the former. He observes farther, that it is in some of its 
particular applications that the truth of every axiom is originally 
perceived by the mind; and, therefore, that the general proposi¬ 
tion, so far from being the ground of our assent to the truths 
which it comprehends, is only a verbal generalization of what, in 
particular instances, has been already acknowledged as true. 

The same author remarks, that some of these axioms “ are no 
more than bare verbal propositions, and teach us nothing but the 
respect and import of names one to another. The whole is equal 
to all its parts: what real truth, I beseech you, does it teach us ? 
What more is contained in that maxim, than what the signification 
of the word totum, or the whole, does of itself import ? And he 
that knows that the word whole stands for what is made up of all 
its parts, knows very little less than that f the whole is equal to all 
its parts.’ And upon the same ground, I think, that this pro 
position, A hill is higher than a valley, and several the like, may 
also pass for maxims.” 

Notwithstanding these considerations, Mr. Locke does not object 
to the form which Euclid has given to his axioms, or to the place 
which he has assigned to them in his Elements. On the contrary, 
he is of opinion, that a collection of such maxims is not without 
reason prefixed to a mathematical system ; in order that learners, 
“ having in the beginning perfectly acquainted their thoughts with 
these propositions made in general terms, may have them ready to 
apply to all particular cases as formed rules and sayings. . Not 
that, if they be equally weighed, they are more clear and evident 
than the instances they are brought to- confirm; but that, being 
more familiar to the mind, the very naming of them is enough to 
satisfy the understanding. In farther illustration of this, he adds, 
very justly and ingeniously, that, “ although our knowledge begins 
in particulars, and so spreads itself by degrees to generals; yet, 
afterwards, the mind takes quite the contrary course, and having 
drawn its knowledge into as general propositions as it can, makes 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


298 


them familiar to its thoughts, and accustoms itself to have recourse 
to them as to the standards of truth and falsehood.” 

[But, although, in mathematics, some advantage may be gained, 
without the risk of any possible inconvenience, from this arrange¬ 
ment of axioms, it is a very dangerous example to be followed in other 
branches of knowledge, where our notions are not equally clear and 
precise; and where the force of our pretended axioms (to use Mr. 
Locke’s words), “ reaching only to the sound, and not to the 
signification of the words, serves only to lead us into confusion, 
mistakes, and error.”] For the illustration of this remark, I must 
refer to Locke. 

Another observation of this profound writer deserves our atten¬ 
tion, while examining the nature of axioms;—“ that they are not 
the foundations on which any of the sciences is built; nor at all 
useful in helping men forward to the discovery of unknown truths.” 
—(Book iv. chap. 7, sec. 11.— 2. 3.) This observation I intend to 
illustrate afterwards, in treating of the futility of the syllogistic art. 
At present I shall only add to what Mr. Locke has so well stated, 
that, [even in mathematics, it cannot with any propriety be said, 
that the axioms are the foundations on which the science rests; 
or the first principles from which its more recondite truths are 
deduced.] Of this I have little doubt that Locke was perfectly 
aware; but the mistakes which some of the most acute and 
enlightened of his disciples have committed in treating of the same 
subject, convince me that a further elucidation of it is not altogether 
superfluous. With this view, I shall here introduce a few remarks 
on a passage in Dr. Campbell’s Philosophy of Rhetoric, in which 
he has betrayed some misapprehensions on this very point, which a 
little more attention to the hints already quoted from the Essay on 
Human Understanding might have prevented. These remarks 
will, I hope, contribute to place the nature of axioms, more particu¬ 
larly of mathematical axioms, in a different and clearer light than 
that in which they have been commonly considered. 

“ Of intuitive evidence,” says Dr. Campbell, “ that of the following 
propositions may serve as an illustration: One and four make five. 
Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. The 
whole is greater than a part; and, in brief, all axioms in arithmetic 
and geometry. These are, in effect, but so many expositions of 
our own general notions taken in different views. Some of them 
are no more than definitions, or equivalent to definitions. To say, 
one and four make five, is precisely the same thing as to say, we 
give the name of five to one added to four. In fact, they are all in 
some respects reducible to this axiom, Whatever is, is. I do not 
say they are deduced from it, for they have in like manner that 
original and intrinsic evidence which makes them, as soon as the 
terms are understood, to be perceived intuitively. And, if they 
are not thus perceived, no deduction of reason will ever confer on 
them any additional evidence. Nay, in point of time, the discovery 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 


2.09 


of the less general truths has the priority, not from their superior 
evidence, but solely from this consideration, that the less general 
are sooner objects of perception to us. But I affirm, that though 
not deduced from that axiom, they may be considered as particular 
exemplifications of it, and coincident with it, inasmuch as they are 
all implied in this, that the properties of our clear and adequate ideas 
can be no other than what the mind clearly perceives them to be. 

“ But, in order to prevent mistakes, it will be necessary farther to 
illustrate this subject. It might be thought that, if axioms were 
propositions perfectly identical, it would be impossible to advance a 
step by their means, beyond the simple ideas first perceived by the 
mind. And it must be owned, if the predicate of the proposition 
were nothing but a repetition of the subject, under the same aspect, 
and in the same or synonymous terms, no conceivable advantage 
could be made of it for the furtherance of knowledge. Of such 
propositions, for instance, as these,—seven are seven, eight are 
eight, and ten added to eleven are equal to ten added to eleven, 
it is manifest that we could never avail ourselves for the improve¬ 
ment of science. Nor does the change of the term make any alter¬ 
ation in point of utility. The propositions, twelve are a dozen, 
twenty are a score, unless considered as explications of the words 
dozen and score, are equally insignificant with the former. But 
when the thing, though in effect coinciding, is considered under a 
different aspect; when what is single in the subject is divided in 
the predicate, and conversely; or when what is a whole in the one, 
is regarded as a part of something else in the other; such proposi¬ 
tions lead to the discovery of innumerable and apparently remote 
relations. One added to four may be accounted no other than a 
definition of the word five, as was remarked above. But when I 
say, tf Two added to three are equal to five,’ I advance a truth 
which, though equally clear, is quite distinct from the preceding. 
Thus, if one should affirm, f That twice fifteen make thirty,’ and 
again, that ‘thirteen added to seventeen make thirty,’ nobody would 
pretend that he had repeated the same proposition in other words. 
The cases are entirely similar. In both cases, the same thing is 
predicated of ideas which, taken severally, are different. From 
these, again, result other equations, as‘ one added to four are equal 
to two added to three,’ and ‘ twice fifteen are equal to thirteen 
added to seventeen.’ 

“ Now, it is by the aid of such simple and elementary principles, 
that the arithmetician and algebraist proceed to the most astonish¬ 
ing discoveries. Nor are the operations of the geometrician essen¬ 
tially different.” 

I have little to object to these observations of Dr. Campbell, as 
far as they relate to arithmetic and to algebra ; for, in these sciences, 
all our investigations amount to nothing more than to a comparison 
of different expressions of the same thing. Our common language, 
indeed, frequently supposes the case to be otherwise; as when an 


300 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


equation is defined to be “A proposition asserting the equality of 
two quantities.” It would, however, be much more correct to define 
it, “ A proposition asserting the equivalence of two expressions of 
the same quantityfor algebra is merely a universal arithmetic ; 
and the names of numbers are nothing else than collectives, by which 
we are enabled to express ourselves more concisely than could be 
done by enumerating all the units that they contain. Of this doc¬ 
trine, the passage now quoted from Dr. Campbell shows that he 
entertained a sufficiently just and precise idea. 

But, if Dr. Campbell perceived that arithmetical equations, such 
as “ one and four make five,” are no other than definitions, why 
should he have classed them with the axioms he quotes from Euclid, 
“ That the whole is greater than a part,” and that “ Things equal 
to the same thing are equal to one another?” propositions which, 
however clearly their truth be implied in the meaning of the terms 
of which they consist, cannot certainly, by any interpretation, be 
considered in the light of definitions at all analogous to the former. 
The former, indeed, are only explanations of the relative import of 
particular names; the latter are universal propositions, applicable 
alike to an infinite variety of instances.* 

Another very obvious consideration might have satisfied Dr. 
Campbell, that the simple arithmetical equations which he men¬ 
tions, do not hold the same place in that science which Euclid’s 
axioms hold in geometry. What I allude to is, that the, greater 
part of these axioms are equally essential to all the different branches 
of mathematics. That “ the whole is greater than a part,” and 
that “ things equal to the same thing are equal to one another,” are 
propositions as essentially connected with our arithmetical com¬ 
putations, as with our geometrical reasonings; and, therefore to 
explain in what manner the mind makes a transition, in the case of 
numbers, from the more simple to the more complicated equations, 
throws no light whatever on the question, how the transition is 
made, either in arithmetic or in geometry, fr 0 m what are properly 
called axioms, to the more remote conclusions i n these sciences. 

The very fruitless attempt thus made by this acute writer to 

* D’Alembert alscf has confounded these two classes of propositions. “ What do the 
greater part of those axioms on which geometry prides itself amount to, but to an ex¬ 
pression, by means of two different words or signs, of the same simple idea ? He who 
says that two and two make four, what more does he know than another who should 
content himself with saying, that two and two make two and two ? ”—Here a simple 
arithmetical equation (which is obviously a mere definition) is brought to illustrate a 
remark on the nature of geometrical axioms.—With respect to these last (I mean such 
axioms as Euclid has prefixed to his elements) D’Alembert’s opinion seems to coincide 
exactly with that of Locke, already mentioned. « I would not be understood, never- 
theless, to condemn the use of them altogether: I wish only to remark, that their 
utility rises no higher than this, that they render our simple ideas more familiar bv 
means of habit, and better adapted to the different purposes to which we may have 
occasion to apply them.”—« Je ne pretends point cependant en condamner absolument 
1 usage : je veux seulement faire observer, k quoi il se reduit; c’est k nous rendre les 
idees simples plus famiheres par l’habitude, et plus propres aux diff^rens usages 
auxquels nous pouvons les appliquer.”-Discours Prdliminaire, &c. &c 8 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BKLIEF. 301 

illustrate the importance of axioms as the basis of mathematical 
truth, was probably suggested to him by a doctrine which has been 
repeatedly inculcated of late, concerning the grounds of that pecu¬ 
liar evidence which is allowed to accompany mathematical demon¬ 
stration. “ All the sciences, 5 ’ it has been said, “rest ultimately on 
first principles, which we must take for granted without proof ; and 
whose evidence determines, both in kind and degree, the evidence 
which it is possible to attain in our conclusions. In some of the 
sciences, our first principles are intuitively certain; in others, they 
are intuitively probable; and such as the evidence of these prin¬ 
ciples is, such must that of our conclusions be. If our first prin¬ 
ciples are intuitively certain, and if we reason from them conse¬ 
quentially, our conclusions will be demonstratively certain; but if 
our principles be only intuitively probable, our conclusions will be 
only demonstratively probable. In mathematics, the first princi¬ 
ples from which we reason are a set of axioms which are not only 
intuitively certain, but of which we find it impossible to conceive 
the contraries to be true; and hence the peculiar evidence which 
belongs to all the conclusions that follow from these principles as 
necessary consequences. 55 

To this view of the subject Dr. Eeid has repeatedly given his 
sanction, at least in the most essential points : more particularly, in 
controverting an assertion of Locke’s, that “ no science is, or hath 
been, built on maxims.”—“ Surely,” says Dr. Eeid, “ Mr. Locke 
was not ignorant of geometry, which hath been built upon maxims 
prefixed to the elements, as far back as we are able to trace it. 
But though they had not been prefixed, which was a matter of 
utility rather than necessity, yet it must be granted, that every 
demonstration in geometry is grounded, either upon propositions 
formerly demonstrated, or upon self-evident principles.” Intell. 
Powers, Essay VI. Chap. VII. § xiv. Edit. 1843. 

On another occasion, he expresses himself thus: “I take it to be 
certain, that whatever can, by just reasoning, be inferred from a 
principle that is necessary, must be a necessary truth. Thus, as 
the axioms in mathematics are all necessary truths, so are all the 
conclusions drawn from them; that is, the whole body of that 
science.” (Ibid., Essay VI. Chap. V. § v. Edit. 1843. See also 
Essay VI. Chaps. IV. & VI. 

That there is something fundamentally erroneous in these very 
strong statements with respect to the relation which Euclid’s axioms 
bear to the geometrical theorems which follow, appears sufficiently 
from a consideration which was long ago mentioned by Locke,—that 
from these axioms it is not possible for human ingenuity to deduce 
a single inference. “ It was not,” says Locke, “ the influence of those 
maxims which are taken for principles in mathematics, that hath 
led the masters of that science into those wonderful discoveries they 
have made. Let a man of good parts know all the maxims gene¬ 
rally made use of in mathematics never so perfectly, and contem- 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


302 


plate their extent and consequences as much as he pleases, he will, 
by their assistance, I suppose, scarce ever come to know, that ‘ the 
square of the hypotenuse in a right-angled triangle, is equal to the 
squares of the two other sides.’ The knowledge that c the whole is 
equal to all its parts,’ and, ‘ if you take equals from equals, the 
remainders will be equal,’ helped him not, I presume, to this 
demonstration: and a man may, I think, pore long enough on those 
axioms, without ever seeing one jot the more of mathematical 
truths.” (Essay on Human Understanding, book iv. chap. xii. 
sec. 15.) But surely, if this be granted, and if, at the same time, 
by the first principles of a science be meant those fundamental pro¬ 
positions from which its remoter truths are derived, the axioms 
cannot, with any consistency, be called the first principles of mathe¬ 
matics. They have not, it will be admitted, the most distant ana¬ 
logy to what are called the first principles of natural philosophy;— 
to those general facts, for example, of the gravity and elasticity of 
the air, from which may be deduced, as consequences, the suspen¬ 
sion of the mercury in the Torricellian tube, and its fall when 
carried up to an eminence. According to this meaning of the word, 
the principles of mathematical science are, not the axioms but the 
definitions; which definitions hold, in mathematics, precisely the 
same place that is held in natural philosophy by such general facts 
as have now been referred to.* 

From what principle are the various properties of the circle 
derived, but from the definition of a circle? From what prin¬ 
ciple the properties of the parabola or ellipse, but from the defi¬ 
nitions of these curves ? A similar observation may be extended 
to all the other theorems which the mathematician demonstrates; 
and it is this observation (which, obvious as it may seem, does 
not appear to have occurred, in all its force, either to Locke, to 

* In order to prevent cavil, it may be necessary for me to remark here, that when 
I speak of mathematical axioms, I have in view only such as are of the same descrip¬ 
tion with the first nine of those which are prefixed to the Elements of Euclid; for, in 
that list, it is well known, that there are several which belong to a class of propositions 
altogether different from the others. That “ all right angles (for example) are equal 
to one another; ” that “when one straight line falling on two other straight lines 
makes the two interior angles on the same side less than two right angles, these two 
straight lines, if produced, shall meet on the side, where are the two angles less than 
two right angles; ” are manifestly principles which bear no analogy to such barren 
truisms as these, “ Things that are equal to one and the same thing, are equal to 
one another.” “ If equals be added to equals, the wholes are equal.” “ If equals be 
taken from equals, the remainders are equal.” Of these propositions, the two former 
(the 10th and 11th axioms, to wit, in Euclid’s list) are evidently theorems which, in 
point of strict logical accuracy, ought to be demonstrated; as may be easily done, with 
respect to the first, in a single sentence. That the second has not yet been proved in 
a simple and satisfactory manner, has been long considered as a sort of reproach to 
mathematicians ; and I have little doubt that this reproach will continue to exist, till 
the basis of the science be somewhat enlarged, by the introduction of one or two new 
definitions, to serve as additional principles of geometrical reasoning. 

For some farther remarks on Euclid’s axioms, see Note x. 

The edition of Euclid to which I uniformly refer, is that of David Gregory. Oxon. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 303 

Reid, or to Campbell,) that furnishes, if I mistake not, the true 
explanation of the peculiarity already remarked in mathematical 
evidence.* 

The prosecution of this last idea properly belongs to the subject 
of mathematical demonstration, of which I intend to treat after¬ 
wards. In the mean time, I trust that enough has been said to 
correct those misapprehensions of the nature of axioms, which are 
countenanced by the speculations, and still more by the phraseo¬ 
logy, of some late eminent writers. On this article, [my own opi¬ 
nion coincides very nearly with that of Mr. Locke, both in the 
view which he has given of the nature and use of axioms in geometry , 
and in what he has so forcibly urged concerning the danger , in other 
branches of knowledge, of attempting a similar list of maxims, without 
a due regard to the circumstances by which different sciences are 
distinguished from one another.] With Mr. Locke, too, I must 
beg leave to guard myself against the possibility of being misun¬ 
derstood in the illustrations which I have offered of some of his 
ideas: and for this purpose, I cannot do better than borrow his 
words. “ In all that is here suggested concerning the little use of 
axioms for the improvement of knowledge, or dangerous use in unde¬ 
termined ideas, I have been far enough from saying or intending 
they should be laid aside, as some have been too forward to charge 
me. I affirm them to be truths, self-evident truths; and so cannot 
be laid aside. As far as their influence will reach, it is in vain to 
endeavour, nor would I attempt, to abridge it. But yet, without 
any injury to truth or knowledge, I may have reason to think their 
use is not answerable to the great stress which seems to be laid on 
them, and I may warn men not to make an ill use of them, for the 
confirming themselves in error.”—(Essay, book vi. ch. vii. §. 14.) 

After what has been just stated, it is scarcely necessary for me 
again to repeat, with regard to mathematical axioms, that although 
they are not the principles of our reasoning, either in arithmetic or 
in geometry, their truth is supposed or implied in all our reasonings 
in both: and, if it were called in question, our further progress 
would be impossible. In both of these respects, we shall find them 
analogous to the other classes of primary or elemental truths which 
remain to be considered. 

Nor let it be imagined, from this concession, that the dispute 
turns merely on the meaning annexed to the word principle. It 
turns upon an important question of fact; whether the theorems of 
geometry rest on the axioms, in the same sense in which they rest 

* D’Alembert, although he sometimes seems to speak a different language, 
approached nearly to this view of the subject when he wrote the following passage : 

“ Finally, it is not without reason that mathematicians consider definitions as prin¬ 
ciples ; since it is on clear and precise definitions that our knowledge rests in those 
sciences, where our reasoning powers have the widest field opened for their exercise.” 
—Au reste, ce n’est pas sans raison que les math^maticiens regardent les definitions 
comme des principes, puisque, dans les sciences ou le raisonnement a la meilleure 
part, c’est sur des definitions nettes et exactes que nos connoissances sont appuyees. ” 
—Elemens de Phil. p. 4. 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


304 


on the definitions ? or (to state the question in a manner still more 
obvious) whether axioms hold a place in geometry at all analogous 
to what is occupied in natural philosophy, by those sensible pheno¬ 
mena which form the basis of that science? Dr. Reid compares 
them sometimes to the one set of propositions, and sometimes to the 
other.* If the foregoing observations be just, they bear no analogy 
to either. 

Into this indistinctness of language Dr. Reid was probably led 
in part by Sir Isaac Newton, who, with a very illogical latitude in 
the use of words, gave the name of axioms to the laws of motion,f 
and also to those general experimental truths which form the 
groundwork of our general reasonings in catoptrics and dioptrics. 
For such a misapplication of the technical terms of mathematics, 
some apology might perhaps be made, if the author had been treat¬ 
ing on any subject connected with moral science; but surely, in a 
work entitled “Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy,” 
the word axiom might reasonably have been expected to be used 
in a sense somewhat analogous to that which every person liberally 
educated is accustomed to annex to it, when he is first initiated 
into the elements of geometry. 

The question to which the preceding discussion relates is of the 
greater consequence, that the prevailing mistake with respect to the 
nature of mathematical axioms, has contributed much to the sup¬ 
port of a very erroneous theory concerning mathematical evidence, 
which is, I believe, pretty generally adopted at present,—that it all 

* “ The science (Mathematics) once fairly established on the foundation of a few 
axioms and definitions, as upon a rock, has grown from age to age, so as to become 
the loftiest and the most solid fabric that human reason can boast.”—Essays VI. on 
Int. Powers, Chap. IV. § ix. Edit. 1843. 

“ Lord Bacon first delineated the only solid foundation on which natural philosophy 
can be built; and Sir Isaac Newton reduced the principles laid down by Bacon into 
three or four axioms, which he calls regulee philosophandi. From these, together with 
the phenomena observed by the senses, which he likewise lays down as first principles, 
he deduces, by strict reasoning, the propositions contained in the third book of his 
Principia, and in his Optics ; and by this means has l’aised a fabric, which is not liable 
to be shaken by doubtful disputation, but stands immovable on the basis of self-evident 
principles.”—Ibid. 

•J- Axiomata, sive leges Motus. Vide Philosophise Naturalis Principia Mathematica. 
“ Axioms or laws of motion. See the Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.” 

At the beginning, too, of Newton’s Optics, the title of axioms is given to the 
following propositions : 

. “ Axiom I. The angles of reflection and refraction lie in one and the same plane 
with the angle of incidence. 

“ Axiom II. The angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence. 

“ Axiom III. If the refracted ray be turned directly back to the point of incidence, 
it shall be refracted into the line before described by the incident ray. 

“ Axiom IV. Refraction out of the rarer medium into the denser, is made towards 
the perpendicular ; that is, so that the angle of refraction be less than the angle of 
incidence. 

“ Axiom V. The sine of incidence is either accurately, or very nearly, in a given 
ratio to the sine of refraction.” 

When the word axiom is understood by one writer in the sense annexed to it by 
Euclid, and by his antagonist in the sense here given to it by Sir Isaac Newton, it is 
not surprising that there should be apparently a wide diversity between their opinions 
concerning the logical importance of this class of propositions. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 


305 


resolves ultimately into the perception of identity: and that it is 
this circumstance which constitutes the peculiar and characteristical 
cogency of mathematical demonstration. 

Of some of the other arguments which have been alleged in favour 
of this theory, I shall afterwards have occasion to take notice. At 
present, it is sufficient for me to remark, (and this, I flatter myself, 
I may venture to do with some confidence, after the foregoing rea¬ 
sonings,) that in so far as it rests on the supposition that all geome¬ 
trical truths are ultimately derived from Euclid’s axioms, it proceeds 
on an assumption totally unfounded in fact, and indeed so obviously 
false, that nothing but its antiquity can account for the facility witlx 
which it continues to be admitted by the learned.* 

II. Continuation of the same Subject .—The difference of opinion 
between Locke and Reid, of which I took notice in the foregoing 
part of'this section, appears greater than it really is, in consequence 
of an ambiguity in the word principle, as employed by the latter. 
In its proper acceptation, it seems to me to denote an assumption 
(whether resting on fact or on hypothesis), upon which, as a datum, 
a train of reasoning proceeds ; and for the falsity or incorrectness 
of which no logical rigour in the subsequent process can compensate. 
Thus, the gravity and the elasticity of the air are principles of reason¬ 
ing in our speculations about the barometer. The equality of the 
angles of incidence and reflection; the proportionality of the sines 
of incidence and refraction; are principles of reasoning in catop¬ 
trics and in dioptrics. In a sense perfectly analogous to this, the 
definitions' of geometry (all of which are merely hypothetical) are 
the first principles of reasoning in the subsequent demonstrations, 
and the basis on which the whole fabric of the science rests. 

I have called this the proper acceptation of the word, because it 
is that in which it is most frequently used by the best writers. It 
is also most agreeable to the literal meaning which its etymology 
suggests, expressing the original point from which our reasoning 
sets out or commences. 

Dr. Reid often uses the word in this sense, as, for example, in 
the following sentence, already quoted: “ From three or four 

* A late mathematician, of considerable ingenuity and learning, doubtful, it should 
seem, whether Euclid had laid a sufficiently broad foundation for mathematical science 
iu the axioms prefixed to his Elements, has thought proper to introduce several new 
ones of his own invention. The first of these is, that, “ Every quantity is equal to 
itself; ” to which he adds afterwards, that “ A quantity expressed one way is equal to 
itself expressed any other way.”—See Elements of Mathematical Analysis, by Professor 
Vilant, of St. Andrews. We are apt to smile at the foi’mal statement of these propo¬ 
sitions ; and yet, according to the theory alluded to in the text, it is in truths of this 
very description that the whole science of mathematics not only begins but ends. 
“ Omnes mathematicorum propositiones sunt identic®, et reprsesentantur hac formula 
a = a.” [“All mathematical propositions are identical and represented by this formula, 
a = a.”] This sentence, which I quote from a dissertation published at Berlin about 
fifty years ago, expresses, in a few words, what seems to be now the prevailing 
opinion, (more particularly on the Continent,) concerning the nature of mathematical 
evidence. The remarks which I have to offer upon it I delay till some other questions 
shall be previously considered. 


306 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


axioms, which, he calls regulae philosophandi, together with the 
phenomena observed by the senses, which he likewise lays down 
as first principles, Newton deduces, by strict reasoning, the pro¬ 
positions contained in the third book of his Principia, and in his 
Optics.” 

On other occasions, he uses the same word to denote those ele¬ 
mental truths (if I may use the expression), which are virtually 
taken for granted or assumed, in every step of our reasoning; and 
without which, although no consequences can be directly inferred 
from them, a train of reasoning would be impossible. Of this kind, 
in mathematics, are the axioms, or (as Mr. Locke and others fre¬ 
quently call them), the maxims : in physics, a belief of the con¬ 
tinuance of the Laws of Nature:—in all our reasonings, without 
exception, a belief in our own identity and in the evidence of 
memory. Such truths are the last elements into which reasoning 
resolves itself, when subjected to a metaphysical analysis ; and 
which no person but a metaphysician or a logician ever thinks of 
stating in the form of propositions, or even of expressing verbally 
to himself. It is to truths of this description that Locke seems in 
general to apply the name of maxims : and, in this sense, it is un¬ 
questionably true, that no science (not even geometry) is founded 
on maxims as its first principles. 

[In one sense of the icord principle, indeed, maxims may be called 
principles of reasoning; for the words principles and elements are 
sometimes used as synonymous. Nor do I take upon me to say 
that this mode of speaking is exceptionable. All that I assert is, 
that they cannot be called principles of reasoning, in the sense 
which has just now been defined ; and that accuracy requires, that 
the word on which the whole question hinges should not be used 
in both senses, in the course of the same argument.] It is for this 
reason that I have employed the phrase principles of reasoning on 
the one occasion, and elements of reasoning on the other. 

It is difficult to find unexceptionable language to mark distinc¬ 
tions so completely foreign to the ordinary purposes of speech; 
but, in the present instance, the line of separation is strongly and 
clearly drawn by this criterion,—that from principles of reasoning 
consequences may be deduced; from what I have called elements 
of reasoning, none ever can. 

&IT A process of logical reasoning has been often likened to a 
chain supporting a weight. If this similitude be adopted, the axioms 
or elemental truths now mentioned, may be compared to the suc¬ 
cessive concatenations which connect the different links imme¬ 
diately with each other; the principles of our reasoning resemble 
the hook, or rather the beam, from which the whole is suspended. 

The foregoing observations, I am inclined to think, coincide 
with what was, at bottom, Mr. Locke’s opinion on this subject. 
That he has not stated it with his usual clearness and distinctness, 
it is impossible to deny; at the same time, I cannot subscribe to 
the following severe criticism of Dr. Reid : 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 307 

“ Mr. Locke has observed, ‘ That intuitive knowledge is neces¬ 
sary to connect all the steps of a demonstration.’ 

“ From this, I think, it necessarily follows, that in every branch 
of knowledge, we must make use of truths that are intuitively 
known, in order to deduce from them such as require proof. 

“ But I cannot reconcile this with what he says (section 8th of 
the same chapter): ‘ The necessity of this intuitive knowledge in 
every step of scientifical or demonstrative reasoning, gave occasion, 
I imagine, to that mistaken axiom, that all reasoning was ex prse- 
cognitis et prseconcessis, which how far it is mistaken I shall have 
occasion to show more at large when I come to consider propositions, 
and particularly those propositions which are called maxims, and to 
show that it is by a mistake that they are supposed to be the foun¬ 
dation of all our knowledge and reasonings.”’ (Essays on Int. 
Powers, Essay VI. Chap. VIII. § xi.) 

The distinction which I have already made between elements of 
reasoning, and first principles of reasoning, appears to myself to 
throw much light on these apparent contradictions. 

That the seeming difference of opinion on this point between 
these two profound writers arose chiefly from the ambiguities of 
language, may be inferred from the following acknowledgment of 
Dr. Reid, which immediately follows the last quotation: 

“ I have carefully examined the chapter on Maxims, which Mr. 
Locke here refers to, and though one would expect, from the 
quotation last made, that it should run contrary to what I have 
before delivered concerning first principles, I find only two or 
three sentences in it, and those chiefly incidental, to which I do 
not assent.” (Int. Powers, Essay VI. Chap. YIIL § xn.) 

Before dismissing this subject, I must once more repeat, that the 
doctrine which I have been attempting to establish, so far from 
degrading axioms from that rank which Dr. Reid would assign 
them, tends to identify them still more than he has done with the 
exercise of our reasoning powers; inasmuch as, instead of compar¬ 
ing them with the data, on the accuracy of which that of our con¬ 
clusion necessarily depends, it considers them as the vincula which 
give coherence to all the particular links of the chain: or, (to vary 
the metaphor) as component elements, without which the faculty 
of reasoning is inconceivable and impossible.* 

* D’Alembert lias defined the word principle exactly in the sense in which I have 
used it; and has expressed himself (at least on one occasion) nearly as I have done, 
on the subject of axioms. He seems, however, on this, as well as on some other 
logical and metaphysical questions, to have varied a little in his views (probably from 
mere forgetfulness) in different parts of his writings. 

What then are the truths which are entitled to have a place in the elements of philo¬ 
sophy ? They are of two kinds : those which form the head of each part of the chain, 
and those which are to be found at the points where different branches of the chain 
unite together. 

“ Truths of the first kind are distinguished by this—that they do not depend on any 
other truths, and that they possess within themselves the whole grounds of their evidence. 
Some of my readers will be apt to suppose that I here mean to speak of axioms, but 


308 


PART II. 


CIIAP. I. 


III. Of certain Laics of Belief inseparably connected with the 
Exercise of Consciousness, Memory, Perception, and Reasoning. —( 1 .) 
It is by the immediate evidence of consciousness that we are assured 
of the present existence of our various sensations, whether pleasant 
or painful; of all our affections, passions, hopes, fears, desires, and 
volitions. It is thus, too, we are assured of the present existence 
of those thoughts which, during our waking hours, are continually 
passing through the mind, and of all the different effects which they 
produce in furnishing employment to our intellectual faculties. 

According to the common doctrine of our best philosophers (see, 
in particular, Campbell’s Philosophy of Rhetoric), it is by the evi¬ 
dence of consciousness we are assured that we ourselves exist. The 
proposition, however, when thus stated, is not accurately true; for 

these are not the truths which I have at present in view. With respect to this last 
class of principles, I must refer to what I have elsewhere said of them ; that, not¬ 
withstanding their truth, they add nothing to our information; and that the 
palpable evidence which accompanies them, amounts to nothing more than to an 
expression of the same idea by means of two different terms. On such occasions, the 
mind only turns to no purpose about its own axis, without advancing forward a single 
step. Accordingly, axioms are so far from holding the highest rank in philosophy, 
that they scai’cely deserve the distinction of being formally enunciated.” 

[“ Or quelles sont les verites qui doivent entrer dans des elemens de philosophic ? 
II y en a deux sortes ; celles qui forment la tt!te de chaque partie de la chaine, et 
celles qui se trouvent au point de reunion de plusieurs branches. 

“ Les verites du premier genre out pour caract^re distinctif de ne dcpendre d’aucune 
autre, et de n’avoir de preuves que dans elles-mfimes. Plusieurs lecteurs croiront que 
nous voulons parler des axioms, et ils se tromperont; nous les renvoyons a ce qui 
nous en avons dit ailleurs, que ces sortes de priucipes ne nous apprennent rien a 
orce d’etre vrais, et que leur evidence palpable et grossiere se reduit a exprimer la 
meme id6e par deux termes differens, l’esprit ne fait alors autre chose que tourner 
nutilement sur lui-meme sans avancer d’un seul pas. Ainsi les axioms, bien loin de 
tenir en philosophic le premier rang, n’ont pas meme besoin d’etre enonc£s.”—Elem. 
de Phil. pp. 24, 25.] 

Although, in the foregoing passage, D’Alembert, in compliance with common 
phraseology, has bestowed the name of principles upon axioms, it appeal’s clearly, 
from a question which occurs afterwards, that he did not consider them as well 
entitled to this appellation. “ What are, then,” he asks, “ in each science, the true 
principles from which we ought to set out 1 ” (‘ Quels sont done dans chaque science 

les vrais principes d’oii Ton doit partir?”) The answer-lie gives to this question 
agrees with the doctrine I have stated in every particular, excepting in this, that it 
represents (and in my opinion very incorrectly) the principles of geometrical science 
to be (not definitions or hypotheses, but) those simple and acknowledged facts, which 
our senses perceive with respect to the properties of extension. “ The true principles 
from which we ought to set out in the different sciences, are simple and acknowledged 
facts, which do not presuppose the existence of any others, and which, of course, it is 
equally vain to attempt explaining or confuting ; in physics, the familiar phenomena 
which daily experience presents to every eye ; in geometry, the sensible properties of 
extension ; in mechanics, the impenetrability of bodies, upon which their mutual actions 
depend ; in metaphysics, the results of our sensations *, in morals, the original and 
common affections of the human race.”—[“ Les vrais principes d’oii l’on doit partir 
dans chaque science, sont des faits simples et reconnus, qui n’en supposent point 
d’autres, et qu’on ne puisse par consequent ni expliquer ni contester ; en physique, 
les phenomenes journaliers que l’observation decouvre a tous les yeux ; en geometrie 
les proprietes sensibles de l’etendue ; en mechanique, l’impenetrabilite des corps, 
source de leur action mutuelle; en metaphysique, le resultat de nos sensations ; en 
morale, les affections premieres et communes a tous les homines.”—pp. 26, 27.] 

In cases of this sort, where so much depends on extreme precision and nicety in the 
use of words, it appears to me to be proper to verify the fidelity of my translations by 
subjoining the original passages. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 309 

our own existence, as I have elsewhere observed, (Philosophical 
Essays, p. 7,) is not a direct or immediate object of consciousness, 
in the strict and logical meaning of that term. We are conscious 
of sensation, thought, desire, volition; but we are not conscious of 
the existence of mind itself; nor would it be possible for us to arrive 
at the knowledge of it (supposing us to be created in the full pos¬ 
session of all the intellectual capacities which belong to human 
nature), if no impression were ever to be made on our external 
senses. The moment that, in consequence of such an impression, 
a sensation is excited, we learn two facts at once;—the existence of 
the sensation, and our own existence as sentient beings ;—in other 
words, the very first exercise of consciousness necessarily implies a 
belief, not only of the present existence of what is felt, but of the 
present existence of that which feels and thinks; or (to employ 
plainer language) the present existence of that being which I 
denote by the words I and myself. Of these facts, however, it is 
the former alone of which we can properly be said to be conscious, 
agreeably to the rigorous interpretation of the expression. A con¬ 
viction of the latter, although it seems to be so inseparable from 
the exercise of consciousness, that it can scarcely be considered as 
posterior to it in the order of time, is yet (if I may be allowed to 
make use of a scholastic distinction) posterior to it in the order of 
nature; not only as it supposes consciousness to be already awak¬ 
ened by some sensation, or some other mental affection; but as it 
is evidently rather a judgment accompanying the exercise of that 
power, than one of its immediate intimations concerning its appro¬ 
priate class of internal phenomena. [It appears to me, therefore, 
more correct to call the belief of our own existence a concomitant 
or accessory of the exercise of consciousness, than to say, that our 
existence is a fact falling under the immediate cognizance of con¬ 
sciousness, like the existence of the various agreeable or painful 
sensations which external objects excite in our minds.] 

(2.) That we cannot, without a very blameable latitude in the 
use of words, be said to be conscious of our personal identity, is a 
proposition still more indisputable; inasmuch as the very idea of 
personal identity involves the idea of time, and consequently pre¬ 
supposes the exercise not only of consciousness, but of memory . 
The belief connected with this idea is implied in every thought and 
every action of the mind, and may be justly regarded as one of the 
simplest and most essential elements of the understanding. Indeed, 
it is impossible to conceive either an intellectual or an active being 
to exist without it. It is, however, extremely worthy of remark, 
with respect to this belief, that, universal as it is among our spe¬ 
cies, nobody but a metaphysician ever thinks of expressing it in 
words, or of reducing into the shape of a proposition the truth to 
which it relates. To the rest of mankind, it forms not an object of 
knowledge; but a condition or supposition, necessarily and uncon¬ 
sciously involved in the exercise of all their faculties. On a part 


310 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


of our constitution, which is obviously one of the last or primordial 
elements at which it is possible to arrive in analysing our intellec¬ 
tual operations, it is plainly unphilosophical to suppose, that any 
new light can he thrown by metaphysical discussion. All that can 
be done with propriety in such cases, is to state the fact. 

And here, I cannot help taking notice of the absurd and incon¬ 
sistent attempts which some ingenious men have made, to explain 
the gradual process by which they suppose the mind to be led to 
the knowledge of its own existence, and of that continued identity 
which our constitution leads us to ascribe to it. How (it has been 
asked) does a child come to form the very abstract and metaphysical 
idea expressed by the pronoun I or moi ? In answer to this ques¬ 
tion, I have only to observe, that when we set about the explanation 
of a phenomenon, we must proceed on the supposition that it is 
possible to resolve it into some more general law or laws with which 
we are already acquainted. But, in the case before us, how can 
this be expected by those who consider that all our knowledge of 
mind is derived from the exercise of reflection; and that every act 
of this power implies a conviction of our own existence as reflecting 
and intelligent beings ? Every theory, therefore, which pretends 
to account for this conviction, must necessarily involve that sort of 
paralogism which logicians call a petitio principii ;* inasmuch as it 
must resolve the thing to be explained into some law or laws, the 
evidence of which rests ultimately on the assumption in question. 
From this assumption, which is necessarily implied in the joint 
exercise of consciousness and memory, the philosophy of the human 
mind, if we mean to study it analytically, must of necessity set out; 
and the very attempt to dig deeper for its foundation, betrays a 
total ignorance of the logical rules, according to which alone it can 
ever be prosecuted with any hopes of success. 

It was, I believe, first remarked by Mr. Prevost of Geneva, (and 
the remark, obvious as it may appear, reflects much honour on his 
acuteness and sagacity,) that the inquiries concerning the mind, 
founded on the hypothesis of the animated statue—inquiries which 
both Bonnet and Condillac professed to carry on analytically,— 
were in truth altogether synthetical. To this criticism it may be 
added, that their inquiries, in so far as they had for their object to 
explain the origin of our belief of our own existence, and of our 
personal identity, assumed, as the principles of their synthesis, facts 
at once less certain and less familiar than the problem which they 
were employed to resolve. 

Nor is it to the metaphysician only that the ideas of identity and 
of personality are familiar. Where is the individual who has not 
experienced their powerful influence over his imagination, while he 
was employed in reflecting on the train of events which have filled 
up the past history of his life; and on that internal world, the phe¬ 
nomena of which have been exposed to his own inspection alone ? 

* Taking for granted the disputed point. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 311 

On such an occasion, even the wonders of external nature seem 
comparatively insignificant; and one is tempted (with a celebrated 
French writer) in contemplating the spectacle of the universe, to 
adopt the words of the Doge of Genoa when he visited Versailles, 
“ Ce qui m’etonne le plus ici, c’est de m’y voir.” * (D’Alembert, 
Apologie de l’Etude.) 

(3.) The belief which all men entertain of the existence of the 
material world , (1 mean their belief of its existence independently 
of that of percipient beings,) and their expectation of the continued 
uniformity of the laws of nature , belong to the same class of ulti¬ 
mate or elemental laws of thought with those which have been just 
mentioned. The truths which form their objects are of an order 
so radically different from what are commonly called truths, in the 
popular acceptation of that word, that it might perhaps be useful 
for logicians to distinguish them by some appropriate appellation, 
such, for example, as that of metaphysical or transcendental 
truths. They are not principles or data (as will afterwards 
appear) from which any consequence can be deduced ; but form 
a part of those original stamina of human reason, which are equally 
essential to all the pursuits of science, and to all the active con¬ 
cerns of life. 

(4.) I shall only take notice farther, under this head, of the con¬ 
fidence which we must necessarily repose in the evidence of 
memory, (and I may add, in the continuance of our personal 
identity,) when we are employed in carrying on any process of 
deduction or argumentation ;—in following out, for instance, the 
steps of a long mathematical demonstration. In yielding our 
assent to the conclusion to which such a demonstration leads, 
we evidently trust to the fidelity with which our memory has 
connected the different links of the chain together. The reference 
which is often made, in the course of a demonstration, to proposi¬ 
tions formerly proved, places the same remark in a light still 
stronger ; and shows plainly that, in this branch of knowledge, 
which is justly considered as the most certain of any, the authority 
of the same laws of belief which are recognised in the ordinary 
pursuits of life, is tacitly acknowledged. Deny the evidence of 
memory as a ground of certain knowledge, and you destroy the 
foundations of mathematical science as completely as if you were 
to deny the truth of the axioms assumed by Euclid. 

The foregoing examples sufficiently illustrate the nature of that 
class of truths which I have called Fundamental Laws of Human 
Belief, or Primary Elements of Human Reason. A variety of 
others, not less important, might be added to the list;f but these I 
shall not at present stop to enumerate, as my chief object, in intro¬ 
ducing the subject here, was to explain the common relation in 

* “ That which surprises me most here is, to see myself here/' 

t Such, for example, as our belief of the existence of efficient causes ; our belief 
of the existence of other intelligent beings besides ourselves, &c. &c. 


312 


TART II. 


CIIAP. I. 


which they all stand to deductive evidence. In this point of view, 
two analogies , or rather coincidences, between the truths which we 
have been last considering, and the mathematical axioms which 
were treated of formerly, immediately present themselves to our 
notice. 

(1.) From neither of these classes of truths can any direct infer¬ 
ence be drawn for the farther enlargement of our knowledge. 
This remark has been already shown to hold universally with 
respect to the axioms of geometry; and it applies equally to what 
I have called Fundamental Laws of Human Belief. From such 
propositions as these,—I exist; I am the same person to-day that 
I was yesterday; the material world has an existence independent 
of my mind; the general laws of nature will continue, in future, 
to operate uniformly as in time past,—no inference can be deduced, 
any more than from the intuitive truths prefixed to the Elements 
of Euclid. Abstracted from other data, they are perfectly barren 
in themselves; nor can any possible combination of them help the 
mind forward one single step in its progress. It is for this reason, 
that, instead of calling them, with some other writers, first prin¬ 
ciples, I have distinguished them by the title of fundamental laws 
of belief; the former word seeming to me to denote, according to 
common usage, some fact, or some supposition, from which a series 
of consequences may be deduced. 

If the account now given of these laws of belief be just, the great 
argument which has been commonly urged in support of their 
authority, and which manifestly confounds them with what are 
properly called principles of reasoning,* is not at all applicable to 
the subject; or at least does not rest the point in dispute upon its 
right foundation. If there were no first principles, (it has been 
said,) or, in other words, if a reason could be given for every¬ 
thing, no process of deduction could possibly be brought to a con¬ 
clusion. The remark is indisputably true ; but it only proves 
(what no logician of the present times will venture to deny) that 
the mathematician could not demonstrate a single theorem, unless 

* Aristotle himself has more than once made this remark ; more particularly in dis¬ 
cussing the absurd question, Whether it be possible for the same thing to be and not to 
be ? Ai-iovcn 5e kcu tovto airoBeiKVWat rives 5i cnraidevcriav. ean yap airaiSevcia , to p.rj 
ytvcocTKeiv nvuv Set fareiv airodei^iv, Kai nvcav ov Set. 6\us p.ev yap airavriov atvvarov 
anoSeifyv eivai. eis aireipov yap av £aS i£of ware p.T]S‘ dvrws etvai awo$ei£iv. —Al’istot. Meta- 
phys. Vol. ii. p. 873. Edit, du Val. 

“ But there are some who, through ignorance, make an attempt to prove even this 
principle (that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be). For it is a 
mark of ignorance not to be able to distinguish those things which ought to be demon¬ 
strated from things of which no demonstration should be attempted. In truth, it is 
altogether impossible that everything should be susceptible of demonstration ; other¬ 
wise the process would extend to infinity, and, after all our labour, nothing would be 
gained.” In the sentence immediately preceding this quotation, Ai’istotle calls the 
maxim in question, fiefiaiorarri ruv apx^v Tracrwv, “the most certain of all principles.” 

To the same purpose Dr. Reid has said, “ I hold it to be certain, and even demon¬ 
strable, that all knowledge got by reasoning must be built on first principles. This,” 
he adds, “ is as certain as that every house must have a foundation.”—Essays on Int. 
Powers, p. 558, 4to edit. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL TAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 313 

he were first allowed to lay down his definitions; nor the natural 
philosopher explain or account for a single phenomenon, unless he 
were allowed to assume, as acknowledged facts, certain general 
laws of nature. What inference does this afford in favour of that 
particular class of truths to which the preceding observations 
relate, and against which the ingenuity of modern sceptics has 
been more particularly directed ? If I be not deceived, these 
truths are still more intimately connected with the operations of 
the reasoning faculty than has been generally imagined; not as 
the principles (a/oycu) from which our reasonings set out, and on 
which they ultimately depend ; but as the necessary conditions on 
which every step of the deduction tacitly proceeds; or rather (if I 
may use the expression) as essential elements which enter into the 
composition of reason itself. 

(£.) In this last remark I have anticipated, in some measure, 
what I had to state with respect to the second coincidence alluded 
to, between mathematical axioms, and the other propositions which 
I comprehended under the general title of fundamental laws of 
human belief. As the truth of axioms is virtually presupposed or 
implied in the successive steps of every demonstration, so, in every 
step of our reasonings concerning the order of nature, we proceed 
on the supposition, that the laws by which it is regulated will 
continue uniform as in time past; and that the material universe 
has an existence independent of our perceptions. I need scarcely 
add, that, in all our reasonings whatever, whether they relate to 
necessary or to contingent truths, our own personal identity and 
the evidence of memory, are virtually taken for granted. These 
different truths all agree in this, that they are essentially involved 
in the exercise of our rational powers; although, in themselves, 
they furnish no principles or data by which the sphere of our 
knowledge can, by any ingenuity, be enlarged. They agree 
farther in being tacitly acknowledged by all men, learned or 
ignorant, without any formal enunciation in words, or even any 
conscious exercise of reflection. It is only at that period of our 
intellectual progress when scientific arrangements and metaphysical 
refinements begin to be introduced, that they become objects of 
attention to the mind, and assume the form of propositions. 

In'consequence of these two analogies or coincidences, I should 
have been inclined to comprehend, under the general title of 
axioms, all the truths which have been hitherto under our review, 
if the common usage of our language had not, in a great measure, 
appropriated that appellation to the axioms of mathematics; and 
if the view of the subject which I have taken, did not render it 
necessary for me to direct the attention of my readers to the wide 
diversity between the branches of knowledge to which they are 
respectively subservient. 

I was anxious also to prevent these truths from being all identi¬ 
fied, in point of logical importance , under the same name. The 


314 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


fact is, that the one class, (in consequence of the relation in which 
they stand to the demonstrative conclusions of geometry,) are com¬ 
paratively of so little moment, that the formal enumeration of them 
was a matter of choice rather than of necessity; whereas the other 
class have unfortunately been raised, by the sceptical controversies 
of modern times, to a conspicuous rank in the philosophy of the 
human mind. I have thought it more advisable, therefore, to 
bestow on the latter an appropriate title of their own; without, how¬ 
ever, going so far as to reject altogether the phraseology of those 
who have annexed to the word axiom a more enlarged meaning 
than that which I have usually given to it. Little inconvenience, 
indeed, can arise from this latitude in the use of the term; pro¬ 
vided only it be always confined to those ultimate laws of belief, 
which, although they form the first elements of human reason, 
cannot with propriety be ranked among the principles from which 
any of our scientific conclusions are deduced. 

Corresponding to the extension which some late writers have 
given to axioms, is that of the province which they have assigned 
to intuition; a term which has been applied, by Dr. Beattie and 
others, not only to the power by which we perceive the truth of 
the axioms of geometry, but to that by which we recognise the 
authority of the fundamental laws of belief, when we hear them 
enunciated in language. My only objection to this use of the 
word is, that it is a departure from common practice; according 
to which, if I be not mistaken, the proper objects of intuition 
are propositions analogous to the axioms prefixed to Euclid’s 
Elements. - In some other respects, this innovation might perhaps 
be regarded as an improvement on the very limited and imperfect 
vocabulary of which we are able to avail ourselves in our present 
discussions. * 

To the class of truths which I have here called laws of belief, or 
elements of reason, the title of principles of common sense was long 
ago given by Father Bufiier, wdiose language and doctrine concern¬ 
ing them bears a very striking resemblance to those of some of our 
later Scottish logicians. This, at least, strikes me as the meaning 
which these writers in general annex to the phrase; although all of 
them have frequently employed it with a far greater degree of 
latitude. When thus limited in its acceptation, it is obviously 

* According to Locke, we have the knowledge of our own existence by intuition • of 

the existence of God by demonstration ; and of other things by sensation_Book IV. 

chap. 9, § 2. 

This use of the word intuition seems to be somewhat arbitrary. The reality of our 
own existence is a truth which bears as little analogy to the axioms of mathematics as 
any other primary truth whatever. If the province of intuition, therefore, be extended 
as far as it has been carried by Locke in the foregoing sentence, it will not be easy to 
give a good reason why it should not be enlarged a little farther. The words intuition 
and demonstration, it must not be forgotten, have, both of them, an etymological 
reference to the sense of seeing : and when we wish to express, in the strongest terms 
the most complete evidence which can be set before the mind, we compare it to the 
light of noon-day in other words, we compare it to what Mr. Locke here attempts 
to degrade, by calling it the evidence of sensation. 


OF THIS FUNDAMENTAL LAWS-OF HUMAN BELIEF. 


315 


liable, in point of scientific accuracy, to two very strong objections, 
both of which have been already sufficiently illustrated. The first 
is, that it applies the appellation of principles to laws of belief from 
which no inference can be deduced; the second, that it refers the 
origin of these laws to common sense.*—Nor is this phraseology 
more agreeable to popular use than to logical precision. If we were 
to suppose an individual whose conduct betrayed a disbelief of his 
own existence, or of his own identity, or of the reality of surround¬ 
ing objects, it would by no means amount to an adequate description 
of his condition to say, that he was destitute of common sense. We 
should at once pronounce him to be destitute of reason, and would 
no longer consider him as a fit subject of discipline or of punish¬ 
ment. The former expression, indeed, would only imply that he 
was apt to fall into absurdities and improprieties in the common 
concerns of life. To denominate, therefore, such laws of belief as 
we have now been considering, constituent elements of human 
reason, while it seems quite unexceptionable in point of technical 
distinctness, cannot be justly censured as the slightest deviation 
from our habitual forms of speech. On the same grounds, it may 
be fairly questioned, whether the word reason would not, on some 
occasions, be the best substitute which our language affords for 
intuition, in that enlarged acceptation which has been given to it of 
late. If not quite so definite and precise as might be wished, it 
would be at least employed in one of those significations in which 
it is already familiar to every ear; whereas the meaning of intu¬ 
ition, when used for the same purpose, is stretched very far beyond 
its ordinary limits. And in cases of this sort, where we have to 
choose between two terms, neither of which is altogether unexcep¬ 
tionable, it will be found much safer to trust to the context for 
restricting, in the reader’s mind, what is too general, than for enlarg¬ 
ing what use has accustomed us to interpret in a sense too narrow. 

I must add, too, in opposition to the high authorities of Dr. 
Johnson and Dr. Beattie,f that, for many years past, reason has 
been very seldom used by philosophical writers, or indeed by cor¬ 
rect writers of any description, as synonymous with the power of 
reasoning. To appeal to the light of human reason from the reason¬ 
ings of the schools, is surely an expression to which no good objec¬ 
tion can be made, on the score either of vagueness or of novelty. 
Nor has the etymological affinity between these two words the 

* See the preceding part of this section, with respect to the word principle; and the 
Account of Reid’s Life, for some remarks on the proper meaning of the phrase common 
sense. 

*t Dr. Johnson’s definition of Reason was before quoted. The following is that given 
by Dr. Beattie : 

“ Reason is used by those who are most accurate in distinguishing, to signify that 
power of the human mind by which we draw inferences, or by which we are convinced, 
that a relation belongs to two ideas, on account of our having found that these ideas 
bear certain relations to other ideas. In a word, it is that faculty which enables us, 
from relations or ideas that are known, to investigate such as are unknown, and with¬ 
out which we never could proceed in the discovery of truth a single step beyond first 
principles or intuitive axioms.”—Essay on Truth, Part I. Chap. i. 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


316 


slightest tendency to throw any obscurity on the foregoing expres¬ 
sion. On the contrary, this affinity may be of use in some of our 
future arguments, by keeping constantly in view the close and in¬ 
separable connexion which will be afterwards shown to exist 
between the two different intellectual operations which are thus 
brought into immediate contrast. 

The remarks which I have stated in the two preceding sections, 
comprehend everything of essential importance which I have to 
offer on this article of logic. But the space which it has occupied 
for nearly half a century, in some of the most noted philosophical 
works which have appeared in Scotland, lays me under the necessity, 
before entering on a new topic, of introducing, in this place, a few 
critical strictures on the doctrines of my predecessors. 

IV. Critical Remarks on some late Controversies to which it has given 
rise. Of the Appeals which Dr. Reid and some other modern Writers 
have made , in their philosophical Discussions , to Common Sense , as a 
Criterion of Truth. —I observed, in a former part of this work, that 
Dr. Reid acknowledges the Berkeleian system to he a logical con¬ 
sequence of the opinions universally admitted by the learned at the 
time when Berkeley wrote. In the earlier part of his own life, 
accordingly, he informs us, that he was actually a convert to the 
scheme of immaterialism; a scheme which he probably considered 
as of a perfectly inoffensive tendency, as- long as he conceived the 
existence of the material world to be the only point in dispute. 
Finding, however, from Mr. Hume’s writings, that, along with this 
paradox, the ideal theory necessarily involved various other con¬ 
sequences of a very different nature, he was led to a careful examina¬ 
tion of the data on which it rested; when he had the satisfaction to 
discover that its only foundation was a hypothesis, unsupported by 
any evidence whatever but the authority of the schools.* 

From this important concession of a most impartial and compe¬ 
tent judge, it may be assumed as a fact that, till the refutation of 
the ideal theory in his own “Inquiry into the Human Mind,” the 
partisans of Berkeley’s system remained complete masters of the 
controversial field; and yet, during the long period which inter¬ 
vened, it is well known how little impression that system made on 
the belief of our soundest philosophers. Many answers to it were 
attempted, in the meantime, by various authors, both in this 
country and on the Continent; and by one or other of these, the 

* It was not, therefore, (as lias very generally been imagined by the followers of 
Berkeley) from any apprehension of danger in his argument against the existence of 
matter, that Reid was induced to call in question the ideal theory ; but because he 
thought that Mr. Hume had clearly shown, by turning Berkeley’s weapons against 
himself, that this theory was equally subversive of the existence of mind. The ulti¬ 
mate object of Berkeley and of Reid was precisely the same j the one asserting the 
existence of matter from the very same motive which led the other to deny it. 

When I speak of Reid’s asserting the existence of matter, I do not allude to any new 
proofs which he has produced of the fact. This he rests on the evidence of sense, as 
he rests the existence of the mind on the evidence of consciousness. All that he pro¬ 
fesses to have done is, to show the inconclusiveness of Berkeley’s argument against the 
former, and that of Hume against the latter, by refuting the ideal hypothesis which is 
the common foundation of both. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. SI 7 

generality of the learned professed themselves to be convinced of 
its futility; the evidence of the conclusion (as in many other 
cases) supporting the premises, and not the premises the conclu¬ 
sion.* A very curious anecdote, in illustration of this, is mentioned 
in the life of Dr. Berkeley. After the publication of his book, it 
appears that he had an interview with Dr. Clarke; in the course 
of which, Clarke, it is said, discovered a manifest unwillingness to 
enter into the discussion, and was accused by Berkeley of a want 
of candour.f The story (which, if I recollect right, rests on the 
authority of Whiston) has every appearance of authenticity; for as 
Clarke, in common with his antagonist, regarded the principles of 
the ideal theory as incontrovertible, it was perfectly impossible for 
him, with all his acuteness, to detect the flaw to which Berkeley’s 
paradox owed its plausibility. In such circumstances, would it 
have been unphilosophical in Clarke to have defended himself, by 
saying: “ Your conclusion not only contradicts those perceptions of 
my senses, the evidence of which I feel to be irresistible; but by 
annihilating space itself as an external existence, bids defiance to 
a conviction inseparable from the human understanding; and, there¬ 
fore, although I cannot point out the precise oversight which has 
led you astray, there must necessarily be some error, either in your 
original data, or in your subsequent reasoning ? ” Or, supposing 
Clarke to have perceived, as clearly as Reid, that Berkeley’s reason¬ 
ing was perfectly unexceptionable, might he not have added;— 
“ The conclusion which it involves is a demonstration in the form 
of a reductio ad absurdum, of the unsoundness of the ideal theory, 
on which the whole of your argument is built ?” X 

* The impotent, though ingenious attempt of Berkeley (not many years after the 
date of his metaphysical publications) to shake the foundations of the newly-invented 
method of Fluxions, created, in the public mind, a strong prejudice against him, as a 
sophistical and paradoxical disputant ; and operated as a more powerful antidote to 
the scheme of immaterialism, than all the reasonings which his contemporaries were 
able to oppose to it. This unfavourable impression was afterwards not a little con¬ 
firmed by the ridicule which he incurred in consequence of his pamphlet on the 
Virtues of Tar-water ; a performance, however, of which it is but justice to add, that 
it contains a great deal more, both of sound philosophy and of choice learning, than 
could have been expected from the subject. 

f Philosophical Essays, note e. 

That Clarke would look upon the Berkeleian theory with more than common feelings 
of suspicion and alarm, may be easily conceived, when it is recollected that, by denying 
the independent existence both of space and of time, it put an end at once to his cele¬ 
brated argument a prioriy for the existence of God. 

X I acknowledge, very readily, that the force of this indirect mode of reasoning is 
essentially different in mathematics, from what it is in the other branches of knowledge ; 
for the object of mathematics (as will afterwards more fully appear) not being truth, 
but systematical connexion and consistency, whenever two contradictory propositions 
occur, embracing evidently the only possible suppositions on the point in question, if 
the one can be shown to be incompatible with the definitions or hypotheses on which 
the science is founded, this may be regarded as perfectly equivalent to a direct proof 
of the Iegitimacv of the opposite conclusion. In the other sciences, the force ot a 
reductio ad absurdum* depends entirely on the maxim, (( That truth is always con- 


* u Pursuing a train of reasoning until it resolves itself into an absurdity. 



318 


PART IT. 


CHAP. I. 


I am far from supposing that Berkeley would have admitted this 
consideration as decisive of the point in dispute. On the con¬ 
trary, it appears from his writings, that the scheme of immaterial- 
ism was, in his opinion, more agreeable to popular belief, than the 
received theories of philosophers concerning the independent ex¬ 
istence of the external world; nay, that he considered it as one of 
the many advantages likely to result from the universal adoption of 
his system, that “ men would thereby be reduced from paradoxes to 
common sense.” 

The question, however, if not decided by this discussion, would 
at least have been brought to a short and simple issue; for the 
paramount authority of the common sense or common reason of 
mankind being equally recognised by both parties, all that remained 
for their examination was,—whether the belief of the existence, or 
that of the non-existence of matter, was sanctioned by this supreme 
tribunal? For ascertaining this point, nothing more was necessary 
than an accurate analysis of the meaning annexed to the word 
existence: which analysis would have at once shown, not only that 
we are irresistibly led to ascribe to the material world all the inde¬ 
pendent reality which this word expresses, but that it is from the 
material world that our first and most satisfactory notions of exist¬ 
ence are drawn. The mathematical affections of matter (extension 
and figure) to which the constitution of the mind imperiously forces 
us to ascribe an existence, not only independent of our percep¬ 
tions, but necessary and eternal, might more particularly have been 
pressed upon Berkeley, as proofs how incompatible his notions 
were with those laws of belief, to which the learned and the un¬ 
learned must in common submit. (See note Y.) 

But farther (in order to prevent any cavil about the foregoing 
illustration), we shall suppose that Clarke had anticipated Hume in 
perceiving that the ideal theory went to the annihilation of mind as 
well as of matter; and that he had succeeded in proving, to the 
satisfaction of Berkeley, that nothing existed in the universe but 
impressions and ideas. Is it possible to imagine that Berkeley 
would not immediately have seen and acknowledged, that a theory 
which led to a conclusion directly contradicted by the evidence 
of consciousness, ought not, out of respect to ancient authority, to 
be rashly admitted; and that, in the present instance, it was much 
more philosophical to argue from the conclusion against the hypo¬ 
thesis, than to argue from the hypothesis in proof of the conclu¬ 
sion? No middle course, it is evident, was left him between such 

sistent with itself a maxim which, however certain, rests evidently on grounds of a 
more abstract and metaphysical nature than the indirect demonstrations of geometry. 
It is a maxim, at the same time, to which the most sceptical writers have not been able 
to refuse their testimony. « Truth,” says Mr. Hume himself, “is one thing, but errors 
are numberless, and every man has a different one.” 

The unity, or systematical consistency of truth, is a subject which well deserves to be 
farther prosecuted. It involves many important consequences, of which Mr. Hume does 
not, from the general spirit of his philosophy, seem to have been sufficiently aware. 


OP THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 319 

an acknowledgment, and an unqualified acquiescence in those very 
doctrines which it was the great aim of his system to tear up by 
the roots. 

The two chief objections which I have heard urged against this 
mode of defence, are not perfectly consistent with each other. The 
one represents it as a presumptuous and dangerous innovation in 
the established rules of philosophical controversy, calculated to 
stifle entirely a spirit of liberal inquiry; while the other charges 
its authors with all the meanness and guilt of literary plagia* 
rism. I shall offer a few slight remarks upon each of these accu¬ 
sations. 

(1.) That the doctrine in question is not a new one, nor even the 
language in which it has been recently stated an innovation in the 
received phraseology of logical science, has been shown by Dr. Reid, 
in a collection of very interesting quotations, which may be found 
in different parts of his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, 
more particularly in the second chapter of the sixth Essay. Nor 
has this doctrine been generally rejected even by those writers who, 
in their theories, have departed the farthest from the ordinary opi¬ 
nions of the world. Berkeley has sanctioned it in the most explicit 
manner, in a passage already quoted from his works, in which he 
not only attempts the extraordinary task of reconciling the scheme 
of immaterialism with the common sense of mankind, but alleges 
the very circumstance of its conformity to the unsophisticated judg¬ 
ment of the human race, as a strong argument in its favour, when 
contrasted with the paradoxical doctrine of the independent exist¬ 
ence of matter. The ablest advocates, too, for the necessity of 
human actions, have held a similar language ; exerting their inge¬ 
nuity to show that there is nothing in this tenet which does not 
perfectly accord with our internal consciousness, when our supposed 
feelings of liberty, with all their concomitant circumstances, are 
accurately analysed, and duly weighed.* In this respect, Mr. Hume 
forms almost a solitary exception, avowing, with the greatest 
frankness, the complete repugnance between his philosophy and the 
laws of belief to which all men are subjected by the constitution of 
their nature. “ I dine ; I play a game at backgammon; I converse, 
and am happy with my friends; and when, after three or fours hours 
of amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so 
cold, so strained, and so ridiculous, that I cannot find in my heart 
to enter into them any farther. Here, then, I find myself abso¬ 
lutely and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and act, like 

* This, I own, appears to me the only argument for the scheme of necessity, which 
deserves a moment’s consideration, in the present state of the controversy : and it is 
certainly possible to state it in such a form as to give it some degree of plausibility to a 
superficial inquirer. On this point, however, as on many others, our first and third 
thoughts will be found perfectly to coincide ; a more careful and profound examination 
of the question infallibly bringing back to their natural impressions, those who reflect on 
the subject with candour and with due attention. Having alluded to so very import¬ 
ant a controversy, I could not help throwing out this hint here. The farther prose¬ 
cution of it would be altogether foreign to my present purpose. 


PART II. 


CHAP. 


320 


other people, in the common affairs of life.” (Treatise of Human 
Nature, vol. i. p. 467.) 

Even Mr. Hume himself, however, seems at times to forget his 
sceptical theories, and sanctions, by his own authority, not only the 
same logical maxims, but the same mode of expressing them, which 
has been so severely censured in some of his opponents. . “ Those,” 
he observes, “ who have refused the reality of moral distinctions, 
may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants. The only way 
of converting an antagonist of this kind, is, to leave him to himself; 
for, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, ’tis 
probable he will at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over 
to the side of common sense and reason.” (Inquiry concerning the 
Principles of Morals.) 

To the authorities which have been already produced by Reid 
and his successors, in vindication of that mode of arguing which 
is now under our review, I shall beg leave to add another, which, 
as far as I know, has not yet been remarked by any of them; and 
which, while it effectually removes from it the imputation of novelty, 
states, in clear and forcible terms, the grounds of that respect to 
which it is entitled, even in those cases where it is opposed by 
logical subtleties which seem to baffle all our powers of reasoning.. 

“ What is it,” said some of the ancient sophists, “ which consti¬ 
tutes what we call little, much, long, broad, small, or great? Do 
three grains of corn make a heap? The answer must be—No. 
Do four grains make a heap ? You must make the same answer as 
before.—They continued their interrogations from one grain to 
another, without end; and if you should happen at last to answer, 
here is a heap, they pretended your answer was absurd, inasmuch 
as it supposed, that one single grain makes the difference between 
what is a heap, and what is not. I might prove, by the same 
method, that a great drinker is never drunk. Will one drop of 
wine fuddle him ?—No. Two drops, then? By no means ; neither 
three nor four. I might thus continue my interrogations from one 
drop to another; and if, at the end of the 999th drop, you answered 
he is not fuddled, and at the 1000th he is, I should be entitled to 
infer, that one single drop of wine makes the difference between 
being drunk and being sober; which is absurd. If the interroga¬ 
tions went on from bottle to bottle, you could easily mark the 
difference in question. But who attacks you with a sorites , is at 
liberty to choose his own weapons; and, by making use of the 
smallest conceivable increments, renders it impossible for you to 
name a precise point which fixes a sensible limit between being 
drunk and being sober; between what is little and what is great; 
between what is enough and what is too much. A man of the 
world would laugh at these sophistical quibbles, and would appeal 
to common sense; to that degree of knowledge which, in common 
life, is sufficient to enable us to establish such distinctions. But to 
this tribunal a professed dialectician was not permitted to resort; 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 321 

lie was obliged to answer in form; and if unable to find a solution 
according to the rules of art, his defeat was unavoidable. Even at 
this day, an Irish tutor,* who should harass a professor of Salamanca 
with similar subtleties, and should receive no other answer but 
this,—common sense, and the general consent of mankind, suffi¬ 
ciently show that your inferences are false,—would gain the victory; 
his antagonist having declined to defend himself with those logical 
weapons with which the assault had been made.” 

Had the foregoing passage been read to the late Dr. Priestley, 
while he was employed in combating the writings of Reid, 
Oswald, and Beattie, he would, I apprehend, without hesitation, 
have supposed it to be the production of one of their disciples. 
The fact is, it is a translation from Mr. Bayle, an author who was 
never accused of an undue deference for established opinions, and 
who was himself undoubtedly one of the most subtile disputants 
of modern times, f 

From this quotation it clearly appears, not only that the sub¬ 
stance of the doctrine maintained by these philosophers is of a 
much earlier date than their writings ; but that, in adopting the 
phrase, common sense, to express that standard or criterion of 
truth to which they appealed, they did not depart from the lan¬ 
guage previously in use among the least dogmatical of their 
predecessors. 

In the passage just quoted from Bayle, that passion for disputa¬ 
tion which, in Modern Europe, has so often subjected the plainest 
truths to the tribunal of metaphysical discussion, is, with great 
justness, traced to the unlimited influence which the school logic 
maintained for so many ages over the understandings of the learned. 
And although, since the period when Bayle wrote, this influence 
has everywhere most remarkably declined, it has yet left traces 
behind it, in the habits of thinking and judging prevalent among 
speculative men, which are but too discernible in all the branches 

* It is remarkable of this ingenious, eloquent, and gallant nation, that it has been 
for ages distinguished, in the universities on the Continent, for its proficiency in the 
school logic. Le Sage (who seems to have had a very just idea of the value of this 
accomplishment) alludes to this feature in the Irish character, in the account given by 
Gil Bias of his studies at Oviedo : “ Je m’appliquai aussi a la logique, qui m’apprit a 
raisonner beau coup. J’aimois tant la dispute, que j’arretois les passans, connus ou in- 
connus, pour leur proposer des argumens. Je m’adressois quelquefois a des figures 
Hibernoises, qui ne demandoient pas mieux, et il falloit alors nous voir disputer. 
Quels gestes, quelles grimaces, quelles contorsions ! nos yeux etoient pleins de fureur, 
et nos bouches ecumantes. On nous devoit plutot prendre pour des possedes que pour 
des philosophes.” [I applied myself to logic, which set me about arguing continually. 

I was so fond of disputation, that I stopped those who were passing by, whether I was 
acquainted with them or not, and laid my arguments before them. I sometimes ad¬ 
dressed myself to Irish characters, who wished for nothing better. It was worth 
while to see us disputing. Such gestures, such grimaces, such contortions ! our eyes 
expressed the utmost fury, and our mouths foamed. We might rather be taken for 
demoniacs than for philosophers.] 

•f* See Bayle’s Dictionary, article Chrysippe. I have availed myself, in the above 
translation (with a few retrenchments and corrections,) of that which is given in the 
English Biographical and Critical Dictionary. 


322 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


of science connected with the philosophy of the mind. In illustra¬ 
tion of this remark, it would be easy to produce a copious list of 
examples from the literary history of the eighteenth century; but 
the farther prosecution of the subject here would lead me aside 
from the conclusions which I have at present in view. I shall, 
therefore, content myself with opposing, to the contentious and 
sceptical spirit bequeathed by the schoolmen to their successors, 
the following wise and cautious maxims of their master,—maxims 
which, while they illustrate his anxiety to guard the principles of 
the demonstrative sciences against the captiousness of sophists, 
evince the respect which he conceived to be due by the philosopher 
to the universal reason of the human race. 

“ Those things are to be regarded as first truths, the credit of 
which is not derived from other truths, but is inherent in them¬ 
selves. As for probable truths, they are such as are admitted by all 
men, or by the generality of men, or by wise men; and, among 
these last, either by all the wise, or by the generality of the wise, 
or by such of the wise as are of the highest authority.”* 

The argument from Universal Consent, on which so much stress 
is laid by many of the ancients, is the same doctrine with the fore¬ 
going, under a form somewhat different. It is stated with great 
simplicity and force by a Platonic philosopher, in the following 
sentences :— 

“ In such a contest, and tumult, and disagreement, (about other 
matters of opinion,) you may see this one law and language acknow¬ 
ledged by common accord. This the Greek says, and this the 
barbarian says; and the inhabitant of the continent, and the 
islander ; and the wise, and the unwise.”f 

It cannot be denied, that against this summary species of logic, 
when employed without any collateral lights, as an infallible touch¬ 
stone of philosophical truth, a strong objection immediately occurs. 
By what test, it may be asked, is a principle of common sense to be 
distinguished from one of those prejudices to which the whole 
human race are irresistibly led, in the first instance, by the very 
constitution of their nature ? If no test or criterion of truth can 
be pointed out but universal consent, may not all those errors which 

* E an Se aXrjOrj pev kcu npayra, ra pi j St erepcov, a\\a St avreev e^ovra 'rriv niartp. 
EuSo£a Se, ra Sokovvtol navtp, ij rots nKeivrois, 17 rots vocpots Kat tovtois, t) rots neurit/, 
y] rots n\eivrois, rots paMvra ypwpipois, Kat evSo£ots .— Aristot. Top. lib. i. cap. i. (Vol. 
i. p. 180, ed. Du Yal.) 

1* Toaovrcp Se noXepcp kui (Travel Kat StatpcouLa eva tSots av ev navy yfj opoepupov 
1 / 0 pov Kat \oyov, &c. Tavra Se 6 'EWrju \eyet, Kat 6 B apfiapos \eyet, Kat 6 yneipwrys , 
Kat 6 0a\arrios, Kat 6 vo<pos, Kat 6 avoepos .— Max. Tyr. (speaking of the existence of the 
Deity,) Dis. I. 

“Una in re consensio omnium gentium lex naturae putanda est.”—Cic. 1. Tusc. 
[The consent of all nations on any one point should be regarded as a law laid down by 
nature.] 

“ Multum dare solemus praesumptioni omnium hominum : Apud nos veritatis argu- 
mentum est, aliquid omnibus videri,” &c. &c.—Sen. Ep. 117. [We usually allow great 
weight to conclusions arrived at by men collectively. It is with us a proof of truth 
when a position is admitted by all.] 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 323 

Bacon has called idola tribus, claim a right to admission among the 
incontrovertible axioms of science ? And might not the popular 
cavils against the supposition of the earth’s motion, which so long 
obstructed the progress of the Copernican system, have been legit¬ 
imately opposed, as a reply of paramount authority, to all the 
scientific reasonings by which it was supported ? 

It is much to be wished that this objection, of which Dr. Reid 
could not fail to be fully aware, had been more particularly exam¬ 
ined and discussed in some of his publications, than he seems to 
have thought necessary. From different parts of his works, how¬ 
ever, various important hints towards a satisfactory answer to it 
might be easily collected. (See, in particular. Essay VI. Chap. 4, 
on the Int. Powers, 8vo. edit. 1843.) At present I shall only remark, 
that although universality of belief is one of the tests by which, 
according to him, a principle of common sense is characterised, it 
is not the only test which he represents as essential. Long before 
his time, Father Buffer, in his excellent treatise on First Truths, 
had laid great stress on two other circumstances, as criteria to be 
attended to on such occasions; and although I do not recollect any 
passage in Reid where they are so explicitly stated, yet the general 
spirit of his reasonings plainly shows, that he had them constantly 
in view in all the practical applications of his doctrine. The first 
criterion mentioned by Buffer is, “ That the truths assumed as 
maxims of common sense should be such, that it is impossible for 
any disputant either to defend or to attack them, but by means of 
propositions which are neither more manifest nor more certain than 
the propositions in question.” The second criterion is, “ That their 
practical influence should extend even to those individuals who 
affect to dispute their authority.” 

To these remarks of Buffer, it may not be altogether super¬ 
fluous to add, that, wherever a prejudice is found to obtain univer¬ 
sally among mankind in any stage of society, this prejudice must 
have some foundation in the general principles of our nature, and 
must proceed upon some truth or fact inaccurately apprehended or 
erroneously applied. The suspense of judgment, therefore, which 
is proper with respect to particular opinions, till they be once fairly 
examined, can never justify scepticism with respect to the general 
laws of the human mind. Our belief of the sun’s motion is not a 
conclusion to which we are necessarily led by any such law, but an 
inference rashly drawn from the perceptions of sense, which do not 
warrant such an inference. All that we see is, that a relative 
change of position between us and the sun takes place; and this 
fact, which is made known to us by our senses, no subsequent 
discovery of philosophy pretends to disprove. It is not, therefore, 
the evidence of perception which is overturned by the Copernican 
system, but a judgment or inference of the understanding, of the 
rashness of which every person must be fully sensible, the moment 
he is made to reflect with due attention on the circumstances of the 


PART II. 


CHAP. r. 


324 


case; and the doctrine which this system substitutes instead of our 
first crude apprehensions on the subject, is founded, not on any 
process of reasoning a priori, but on the demonstrable inconsistency 
of these apprehensions with the various phenomena which our per¬ 
ceptions present to us. Had Copernicus not only asserted the 
stability of the sun, but, with some of the Sophists of old, denied 
that any such thing as motion exists in the universe, his theory 
would have been precisely analogous to that of the non-existence 
of matter; and no answer to it could have been thought of more 
pertinent and philosophical than that which Plato is said to have 
given to the same paradox in the mouth of Zeno, by rising up and 
walking before his eyes. 

(2.) If the foregoing observations be just, they not only illustrate 
the coincidence between Dr. Reid’s general argument against those 
metaphysical paradoxes which revolt common sense, and the maxims 
of philosophical discussion previously sanctioned by our soundest 
reasoners; but they go far, at the same time, to refute that charge 
of plagiarism in which he has been involved, in common with two 
other Scotish writers, who have made their stand in opposition to 
Berkeley and Hume, nearly on the same ground. This charge has 
been stated in all its force in the Preface to an English translation 
of Buffier’s Premieres Verites, printed at London in the year 1780; 
and it cannot be denied, that some of the proofs alleged in its sup¬ 
port are not without plausibility. But why suppose Reid to have 
borrowed from this learned Jesuit a mode of arguing which has 
been familiar to men in all ages of the world, and to which, long 
before the publication of Buffier’s excellent book, the very same 
phraseology had been applied by numberless other authors ? On 
this point, the passage already quoted from Bayle is of itself 
decisive. The truth is, it is a mode of arguing likely to occur to 
every sincere and enlightened inquirer, when bewildered by scep¬ 
tical sophistry, and which, during the long interval between the 
publication of the Berkeleian theory, and that of Reid’s Inquiry, 
was the only tenable post on which the conclusions of the former 
could be combated. After the length to which the logical con¬ 
sequences of the same principles were subsequently pushed in 
the Treatise of Human Nature, this must have appeared com¬ 
pletely manifest to all who were aware of the irresistible force 
of the argument, as it is there stated; and, in fact, this very ground 
was taken as early as the year 1751, in a private correspondence 
with Mr. Hume, by an intimate friend of his own, for whose 
judgment, both on philosophical and literary subjects, he seems 
to have felt a peculiar deference. (See note z.) I mention this, 
as a proof that the doctrine in question was the natural result of 
the state of science at the period when Reid appeared, and, conse¬ 
quently, that no argument against his originality in adopting it, 
can reasonably be founded on its coincidence with the views of any 
preceding author. 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 


325 


A still more satisfactory reply to the charge of plagiarism may 
he derived from this consideration, that, in Buffier’s Treatise, the 
doctrine which has furnished the chief ground of accusation is stated 
with far greater precision and distinctness than in Dr. Beid’s first 
publication on the Human Mind ; and that, in his subsequent 
performances, after he had perused the writings of Buffier, his 
phraseology became considerably more guarded and consistent 
than before. 

If this observation be admitted in the case of Dr. Beid, it will 
be found to apply with still greater force to Dr. Beattie, whose 
language, in various parts of his book, 'is so loose and unsettled, 
as to afford demonstrative proof that it was not from Buffier he 
derived the idea of his general argument. In confirmation of this, 
I shall only mention the first chapter of the first part of his Essay, 
in which he attempts to draw the line between common sense and 
reason, evidently confounding, as many other authors of high repu¬ 
tation have done, the two very different words, reason and reasoning. 
His account of common sense, in the following passage, is liable to 
censure in almost every line: <e The term common sense hath, in 
modern times, been used by philosophers, both French and British, 
to signify that power of the mind which perceives truth, or com¬ 
mands belief, not by progressive argumentation, but by an instan¬ 
taneous, instinctive, and irresistible impulse, derived neither from 
education nor from habit, but from nature, acting independently 
on our will, whenever its object is presented, according to an estab¬ 
lished law, and therefore properly called sense* and acting in a 
similar manner upon all, or at least upon a great majority of man¬ 
kind, and therefore properly called common sense” (Essay on 
Truth, p. 40, 2nd edit.) 

* The doctrine of the schoolmen (revived in later times under a form somewhat 
modified by Locke,) which refers to sensation the origin of all our ideas, has given rise 
to a very unwarrantable extension of the word sense, in the writings of modern philo¬ 
sophers. When it was first asserted, that “ there is nothing in the intellect which does 
not come to it through the medium of sense,” there cannot be a doubt that, by this 
last term, were understood exclusively our powers of external perception. In process 
of time, however, it came to be discovered, that there are many ideas which cannot 
possibly be traced to this source, and which, of consequence, afford undeniable proof 
that the scholastic account of the origin of our ideas is extremely imperfect. Such was 
certainly the logical inference to which these discoveries should have led; but, instead 
of adopting it, philosophers have, from the first, shown a disposition to save, as much as 
possible, the credit of the maxims in which they had been educated, by giving to the 
word sense so great a latitude of meaning as to comprehend all the various sources of 
our simple ideas, whatever these sources may be. “ All the ideas,” says Dr. Hutche¬ 
son, “ or the materials of our reasoning and judging, are received by some immediate 
powers of perception, internal or external, which we may call senses.” Under the 
title of internal senses, accordingly, many writers, particularly of the medical profes¬ 
sion, continue to this day to comprehend memory and imagination, and other faculties, 
both intellectual and active.—(Vid. Haller, Element. Physiologise, lib. xvii.) Hence 
also the phrases moral sense, the senses of beauty and harmony, and many of the other 
peculiarities of Dr. Hutcheson’s language ; a mode of speaking which was afterwards 
carried to a much more blameable excess by Lord Kaimes. Dr. Beattie, in the pas¬ 
sage quoted above, has indirectly given his sanction to the same abuse of words, 
plainly supposing the phrase, common sense, not only to mean something quite dis¬ 
tinct from reason, but something which bears so close an analogy to the powei’s of 
external sense, as to be not improperly called by the same name. 


326 


PART II. 


CHAP. I. 


“ Reason,” on the other hand, we are told by the same author, 
“ is used by those who are most accurate in distinguishing, to signify 
that power of the human mind by which we draw inferences, or by 
which we are convinced that a relation belongs to two ideas, on 
account of our having found that these ideas bear certain relations 
to other ideas. In a word, it is that faculty which enables us, from 
relations or ideas that are known, to investigate such as are un¬ 
known ; and without which we never could proceed in the discovery 
of truth a single step beyond first principles or intuitive axioms. 
(Essay on Truth, pp. 36, 37, 2nd edit.) It is in this last sense,” 
he adds, te that we are to use the word reason in the course of this 
inquiry.” 

These two passages are severely, and, I think, justly animad¬ 
verted on, in the preface to the English translation of Buffier’s 
book, where they are contrasted with the definition of common sense 
given by that profound and original philosopher. From this defini¬ 
tion it appears, that, far from opposing common sense and reason 
to each other, he considers them either as the same faculty, or as 
faculties necessarily and inseparably connected together. “ It is a 
faculty,” he says, “ which appears in all men, or at least in the far 
greater number of them, when they have arrived at the age of reason, 
enabling them to form a common and uniform judgment on subjects 
essentially connected with the ordinary concerns of life.” 

That this contrast turns out greatly to the advantage of Buffier,* 

* It is remarkable how little attention the writings of Buffier have attracted in his 
own country, and how very inadequate to his real eminence has been the rank com¬ 
monly assigned to him among French philosophers. This has perhaps been partly 
owing to an unfortunate combination which he thought proper to make, of a variety of 
miscellaneous treatises, of very unequal merit, into a large work, to which he gave the 
name of a Course of the Sciences. Some of these treatises, however, are of great 
value ; pai’ticularly that on First Truths, which contains, (along with some erroneous 
notions, easily to be accounted for by the period when the author wrote, and the reli¬ 
gious society with which he was connected,) many original and important views con¬ 
cerning the foundations of human knowledge, and the first principles of a rational 
logic. Voltaire, in his catalogue of the illustrious writers who adorned the reign of 
Louis XIV., is one of the vei’y few French authors who have spoken of Buffier with 
due respect. “ II y a dans ses traites de metaphysique des morceaux que Locke 
n’aurait pas desavoues, et c’est le seul Jesuite qui ait mis une philosophic raisonnable 
dans ses ouvrages.” [There are in his metaphysical treatises passages which Locke 
would not have disowned, and he is the only Jesuit who has introduced a l’ational phi¬ 
losophy into his works.] Another French philosopher, too, of a very different school, 
and certainly not disposed to overrate the talents of Buffier, has, in a work published 
as lately as 1805, candidly acknowledged the lights which he might have derived from 
the labours of his predecessor, if he had been acquainted with them at an earlier period 
of his studies. Condillac, he also observes, might have profited greatly by the same 
lights, if he had availed himself of their guidance in his inquiries concerning the human 
understanding. “ Du moins est-il certain, que pour ma part, je suis fort faclxe de ne 
connoiti'e que depuis tres-peu de temps ces opinions du Pei’e Buffier ; si je les avais 
vues plutot enonc^es quelque part, elles m’aui’aient epai’gne beaucoup de peines et 

d’hesitations.”-“ Je regrette beaucoup que Condillac, dans ses profondes et saga ces 

meditations sur ^intelligence humaine, n’ait pas fait plus d’attention aux idees du Pere 
Buffiei', &c. &c.—Elemens d’Ideologie, par M. Destutt-Tx-acy, tom. iii. pp. 136, 137. 
[For my own part, at least, it is certain that I regret very much that I have only very 
lately been acquainted with the opinions of Father Buffier. If I had sooner seen them 
at all put forward, they would have saved me much trouble and doubt. I regret 



OP THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 327 

must, I think, be granted to his very acute and intelligent trans¬ 
lator. But while I make this concession in favour of his state¬ 
ment, I must be allowed to add, that, in the same proportion in 
which Dr. Beattie falls short of the clearness and logical accuracy of 
his predecessor, he ought to stand acquitted, in the opinion of all 
men of candour, of every suspicion of a dishonourable plagiarism 
from his writings. 

It is the doctrine itself, however, and not the comparative 
merits of its various abettors, that is likely to interest the generality 
of philosophical students; and as I have always thought that this 
has suffered considerably in the public estimation, in consequence 
of the statement of it given in the passage just quoted from the 
Essay on Truth, I shall avail myself of the present opportunity to 
remark, how widely that statement differs from the language, not 
only of Buffer, but of the author’s contemporary and friend, Dr. 
Reid. This circumstance I think it necessary to mention, as it 
seems to have been through the medium of Dr. Beattie’s Essay, that 
most English writers have derived their imperfect information con¬ 
cerning Reid’s philosophy. 

“ There is a certain degree of sense,” says this last author, in his 
Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, “ which is necessary to 
our being subjects of law and government, capable of managing our 
own affairs, and answerable for our conduct to others. This is 
called common sense, because it is common to all men with whom 
we can transact business.” 

“ The same degree of understanding,” he afterwards observes, 
“ which makes a man capable of acting with common prudence in 
life, makes him capable of discerning what is true and what is false, 
in matters that are self-evident, and which he distinctly appre¬ 
hends.” In a subsequent paragraph, he gives his sanction to a 
passage from Dr. Bentley, in which common sense is expressly used 
as synonymous with natural light and reason.* 

It is to be regretted, as a circumstance unfavourable to the recep- 

greatly that Condillac, in his profound and sagacious speculations on the human under¬ 
standing, has not paid more attention to the views of Father Buffier.—Elements of 
Ideology.] 

* Pages 522, 524, 4to. edit.—In the following verses of Prior, the word reason is 
employed in an acceptation exactly coincident with the idea which is, on most occa¬ 
sions, annexed by Dr. Reid to the phrase common sense : 

“ Note here, Lucretius dares to teach 
(As all our youth may learn from Creech) 

That eyes were made, but could not view, 

Nor hands embrace, nor feet pursue, 

But heedless nature did produce 
The members first, and then the use ; 

What each must act was yet unknown, 

Till all was moved by chance alone. 


Blest for his sake be human reason, 

Which came at last, tho’ late, in season.”— 'Alma, Canto I. 



328 


PART II. 


CIIAP. I. 


tion of Dr. Beattie’s valuable Essay among accurate reasoners, that, 
in the outset of his discussions, he did not confine himself to some 
such general explanation of this phrase as is given in the foregoing 
extracts from Buffier and Reid, without affecting a tone of logical 
precision in his definitions and distinctions, which, so far from 
being necessary to his intended argument, were evidently out of 
place in a work designed as a popular antidote against the illu¬ 
sions of metaphysical scepticism. The very idea, indeed, of ap¬ 
pealing to common sense, virtually implies that these words are to 
be understood in their ordinary acceptation, unrestricted and un¬ 
modified by any technical refinements and comments. This part 
of his Essay, accordingly, which is by far the most vulnerable part 
of it, has been attacked with advantage, not only by the translator 
of Buffier, but by Sir James Steuart, in a very acute letter pub¬ 
lished in the last edition of his works.* 

While I thus endeavour, however, to distinguish Dr. Reid’s 
definition of common sense from that of Dr. Beattie, I am far from 
considering even the language of the former on this subject as in 
every instance unexceptionable; nor do I think it has been a for¬ 
tunate circumstance (notwithstanding the very high authorities 
which may be quoted in his vindication), that he attempted to in¬ 
corporate so vague and ambiguous a phrase with the appropriate 
terms of logic. My chief reasons for this opinion I have stated at 
some length, in an account published a few years ago of Dr. Reid’s 
Life and Writings.f (Yide 8vo. edit. 1843.) 

One very unlucky consequence has unquestionably resulted from 
the coincidence of so many writers connected with this northern 
part of the island, in adopting, about the same period, the same 
phrase, as a sort of philosophical watch-word;—that, although their 
views differ widely in various respects, they have in general been 
classed together as partisans of a new sect, and as mutually respon- 

* To the honour of Dr. Beattie it must be remarked, that his reply to this letter 
(which may be found in Sir James Steuart’s works), is written in a strain of forbear¬ 
ance and of good humour, which few authors would have been able to maintain, after 
being handled so roughly. 

t In consequence of the ambiguous meaning of this phrase, Dr. Reid sometimes falls 
into a sort of play on words, which I have often regi’etted. “ If this be philosophy,” 
says he, on one occasion, “ I renounce her guidance. Let my soul dwell with common 
sense.” (Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap. i. sec. 3. See also sec. 4 of the same 
chapter.) And in another passage, after quoting the noted saying of Hobbes, that 
“ when reason is against a man, a man will be against reason he adds : “ This is 
equally applicable to common sense.”—(Essays on the Intellectual Powers, p. 530, 4to. 
edition.) In both of these instances, and indeed in the general strain of argument 
which runs through his works, he understands common sense in its ordinary accepta¬ 
tion, as synonymous, or very nearly synonymous, with the word reason, as it is now 
most frequently employed. In a few cases, however, he seems to have annexed to the 
same phrase a technical meaning of his own, and has even spoken of this meaning as 
a thing not generally understood. Thus, after illustrating the different classes of 
natural signs, he adds the following sentence : “ It may be observed, that as the first 
class of natural signs I have mentioned is the foundation of true philosophy, and the 
second of the fine arts or of taste, so the last is the foundation of common sense : a 
part of human nature which hath never been explained.”—Inquii’y, chap. v. sec. 3.— 
(See note a a.) 


OF THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF HUMAN BELIEF. 329 

sible for the doctrines of each other. It is easy to perceive the 
use likely to be made of this accident by an uncandid antagonist. 

All of these writers have, in my opinion, been occasionally mis¬ 
led in their speculations, by a want of attention to the distinction 
between first principles, properly so called, and the fundamental 
laws of human belief. Buffier himself has fallen into the same 
error; nor do I know of any one logician, from the time of Aris¬ 
totle downwards, who has entirely avoided it. 

The foregoing critical remarks will, I hope, have their use in 
keeping this distinction more steadily in the view of future in¬ 
quirers ; and in preventing some of the readers of the publications 
to which they relate, from conceiving a prejudice, in consequence 
of the looseness of that phraseology which has been accidentally 
adopted by their authors, against the just and important conclu¬ 
sions which they contain. 


CHAPTER II. 

OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 

I. Doubts with respect to Locke's Distinction between the Powers of 
Intuition and of Reasoning. — Although, in treating of this branch 
of the philosophy of the mind, I have followed the example of pre¬ 
ceding writers, so far as to speak of intuition and reasoning as two 
different faculties of the understanding, I am by no means satisfied 
that there exists between them that radical distinction which is 
commonly apprehended. Dr. Beattie, in his Essay on Truth, has 
attempted to show, that, how closely soever they may in general be 
connected, yet that this connexion is not necessary; insomuch, that 
a being may be conceived endued with the one, and at the same 
time destitute of the other. (Beattie’s Essay, p. 41, 2nd edit.) 
Something of this kind, he remarks, takes place in dreams and in 
madness; in both of which states of the system, the power of rea¬ 
soning appears occasionally to be retained in no inconsiderable 
degree, while the power of intuition is suspended or lost. But 
this doctrine is liable to obvious and to insurmountable objections ; 
and has plainly taken its rise from the vagueness of the phrase 
common sense, which the author employs through the whole of his 
argument, as synonymous with the power of intuition. Of the indis¬ 
soluble connexion between this last power and that of reasoning, 
no other proof is necessary than the following consideration, that, 
“ in every step which reason makes in demonstrative knowledge, 
there must be intuitive certaintya proposition which Locke has 
excellently illustrated, and which, since his time, has been acqui¬ 
esced in, so far as I know, by philosophers of all descriptions. 
From this proposition (which, when properly interpreted, appears 
to me to be perfectly just) it obviously follows, that the power of 



330 


PART II. 


CHAP. II. 


reasoning presupposes the power of intuition; and, therefore, the 
only question about which any doubt can be entertained is, whether 
the power of intuition (according to Locke’s idea of it) does not 
also imply that of reasoning ? My own opinion is, decidedly, that 
it does; at least when combined with the faculty of memory. In 
examining those processes of thought which conduct the mind by 
a series of consequences from premises to a conclusion, I can detect 
no intellectual act whatever, which the joint operation of intuition 
and of memory does not sufficiently explain. 

Before, however, proceeding farther in this discussion, it is proper 
for me to observe, by way of comment on the proposition just quoted 
from Locke, that, although, “in a complete demonstration, there 
must be intuitive evidence at every step,” it is not to be supposed, 
that, in every demonstration, all the various intuitive judgments 
leading to the conclusion are actually presented to our thoughts. 
In by far the greater number of instances, we trust entirely to judg¬ 
ments resting upon the evidence of memory; by the help of which 
faculty we are enabled to connect together the most remote truths, 
with the very same confidence as if the one were an immediate 
consequence of the other. Nor does this diminish, in the smallest 
degree, the satisfaction we feel in following such a train of reasoning. 
On the contrary, nothing can be more disgusting than a demon¬ 
stration where even the simplest and most obvious steps are brought 
forward to view; and where no appeal is made to that stock of 
previous knowledge which memory has identified with the opera¬ 
tions of reason. Still, however, it is true, that it is by a continued 
chain of intuitive judgments, that the whole science of geometry 
hangs together; inasmuch as the demonstration of any one propo¬ 
sition virtually includes all the previous demonstrations to which 
it refers. 

Hence it appears, that, in mathematical demonstrations, we have 
not, at every step, the immediate evidence of intuition, but only 
the evidence of memory. Every demonstration, however, may be 
resolved into a series of separate judgments, either formed at the 
moment, or remembered as the results of judgments formed at 
some preceding period; and it is in the arrangement and concate¬ 
nation of these different judgments, or media of proof, that the 
inventive and reasoning powers of the mathematician find so noble 
a field for their exercise. 

i®° With respect to these powers of judgment and of reasoning, 
as they are here combined, it appears to me, that the results of the 
former may be compared to a collection of separate stones prepared 
by the chisel for the purposes of the builder; upon each of which 
stones, while lying on the ground, a person may raise himself, as 
upon a pedestal, to a small elevation. The same judgments, when 
combined into a train of reasoning, terminating in a remote conclu¬ 
sion, resemble the formerly unconnected blocks, when converted 
into the steps of a staircase leading to the summit of a tower, 


OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 331 

which would be otherwise inaccessible. In the design and 

execution of this staircase, much skill and invention may be dis¬ 
played by the architect; but, in order to ascend it, nothing more is 
necessary than a repetition of the act by which the first step was 
gained. The fact I conceive to be somewhat analogous, in the 
relation between the power of judgment, and what logicians call 
the discursive processes of the understanding. 

Mr. Locke’s language, in various parts of his Essay, seems to 
accord with the same opinion. “ Every step in reasoning,” he 
observes, “that produces knowledge, has intuitive certainty; which, 
when the mind perceives, there is no more required but to remember 
it, to make the agreement or disagreement of the ideas, concerning 
which we inquire, visible and certain. This intuitive perception 
of the agreement or disagreement of the intermediate ideas, in each 
step and progression of the demonstration, must also be carried 
exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that no part is left 
out; which, in long deductions, and in the use of many proofs, the 
memory does not always so readily and exactly retain: therefore it 
comes to pass, that this is more imperfect than intuitive knowledge, 
and men embrace often falsehood for demonstrations.” (B. IV. 
Chap. ii. sec. 7. See also B. IV. Chap. xvii. sec. 15.) 

The same doctrine is stated elsewhere by Mr. Locke, more than 
once, in terms equally explicit; (B. IV. Chap. xvii. sec. 2 . B. IV. 
Chap. xvii. secs. 4 and 14,) and yet his language occasionally favours 
the supposition, that, in its deductive processes, the mind exhibits 
some modification of reason essentially distinct from intuition. The 
account, too, which he has given of their respective provinces, 
affords evidence that his notions concerning them were not suffi¬ 
ciently precise and settled. “ When the mind,” says he, “ perceives 
the agreement or disagreement of two ideas immediately by them¬ 
selves, without the intervention of any other, its knowledge may be 
called intuitive. When it cannot so bring its ideas together as, by 
their immediate comparison, and, as it were, juxta-position, or 
application one to another, to perceive their agreement or disagree¬ 
ment, it is fain, by the intervention of other ideas (one or more as 
it happens), to discover the agreement or disagreement which it 
searches; and this is that which we call reasoning.” (B. IV. Chap, 
ii. secs. 1 and 2 .) According to these definitions, supposing the 
equality of two lines A and B to be perceived immediately in con¬ 
sequence of their coincidence; the judgment of the mind is intuitive. 
Supposing A to coincide with B, and B with C; the relation be¬ 
tween A and C is perceived by reasoning. Nor is this a hasty 
inference from Locke’s accidental language. That it is perfectly 
agreeable to the foregoing definitions, as understood by their author, 
appears from the following passage, which occurs afterwards: “ The 
principal act of ratiocination is the finding the agreement or dis¬ 
agreement of two ideas, one with another, by the intervention of a 
third. As a man, by a yard, finds two houses to be of the same 


PART II. 


CHAP. II. 


332 


length, which could not be brought together to measure their equal¬ 
ity by juxta-position.” (B. IV. Chap. xvii. sec. 18.) 

This use of the words intuition and reasoning, is surely some¬ 
what arbitrary. The truth of mathematical axioms has always been 
supposed to be intuitively obvious ; and the first of these, according 
to Euclid’s enumeration, affirms, that if A be equal to B, and B to 
C, A and C are equal. Admitting, however, Locke’s definition to 
he just, it only tends to confirm what has been already stated with 
respect to the near affinity, or rather the radical identity, of intuition 
and of reasoning. When the relation of equality between A and B 
has once been perceived, A and B are completely identified as the 
same mathematical quantity; and the two letters may be regarded 
as synonymous, wherever they occur. The faculty, therefore, 
which perceives the relation between A and C, is the same with 
the .faculty which perceives the relation between A and B, and 
between B and CA 

In farther confirmation of the same proposition, an appeal might 
be made to the structure of syllogisms. Is it possible to conceive 
an understanding so formed as to perceive the truth of the major 
and of the minor propositions, and yet not to perceive the force of 
the conclusion ? The contrary must appear evident to every person 
who knows what a syllogism is; or rather, as in this mode of stating 
an argument, the mind is led from universals to particulars, it must 
appear evident, that, in the very statement of the major proposition, 
the truth of the conclusion is presupposed ; insomuch, that it was 
not without good reason Dr. Campbell hazarded the epigrammatic, 
yet unanswerable, remark, that “ there is always some radical defect 
in a syllogism, which is not chargeable with that species of sophism 
known among logicians by the name of petitio principii , or a beg¬ 
ging of the question.” (Phil, of Rhet. vol. i. p. 174.) 

The idea which is commonly annexed to intuition, as opposed 
to reasoning, turns, I suspect, entirely on the circumstance of time. 
The former we conceive to be instantaneous; whereas the latter 
necessarily involves the notion of succession, or of progress. This 
distinction is sufficiently precise for the ordinary purposes of dis¬ 
course ; nay, it supplies us, on many occasions, with a convenient 
phraseology: but, in the theory of the mind, it has led to some 
mistaken conclusions, on which I intend to offer a few remarks in 
the second part of this section. 

So much with respect to the separate provinces of these powers, 
according to Locke;—a point on which I am, after all, inclined to 

* Dr. Reid’s notions, as well as those of Mr. Locke, seem to have been somewhat 
unsettled with respect to the precise line which sepai’ates intuition from reasoning. 
That the axioms of geometry are intuitive truths, he has remarked in numberless pas¬ 
sages of his works : and yet, in speaking of the application of the syllogistic theory to 
mathematics, he makes use of the following expression : “ The simple reasoning, <A 
is equal to B, and B to C, therefore A is equal to C,’ cannot be brought into any syl¬ 
logism in figure and mode.”—See Analysis of Aristotle’s Logic, in Reid’s Works. 
(Vol. ii. 8vo. edit. London, 1843.) 


OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 333 

think that my own opinion does not differ essentially from his, 
whatever inferences to the contrary may he drawn from some of his 
casual expressions. The misapprehensions into which these have 
contributed to lead various writers of a later date, will, I hope, 
furnish a sufficient apology for the attempt which I have made, to 
place the question in a stronger light than he seems to have thought 
requisite for its illustration. 

In some of the foregoing quotations from his Essay, there is 
another fault of still greater moment; of which, although not im¬ 
mediately connected with the topic now under discussion, it is 
proper for me to take notice, that I may not have the appearance 
of acquiescing in a mode of speaking so extremely exceptionable. 
What I allude to is, the supposition which his language, concern¬ 
ing the powers both of intuition and of reasoning, involves, that 
knowledge consists solely in the perception of the agreement or the 
disagreement of our ideas. The impropriety of this phraseology has 
been sufficiently exposed by Dr. Reid, whose animadversions I 
would beg leave to recommend to the attention of those readers 
who, from long habit, may have familiarised their ear to the pecu¬ 
liarities of Locke’s philosophical diction. In this place, I think it 
sufficient for me to add to Dr. Reid’s strictures, that Mr. Locke’s 
language has, in the present instance, been suggested to him by the 
partial view which he took of the subject; his illustrations being 
chiefly borrowed from mathematics, and the relations about which 
it is conversant. When applied to these relations, it is undoubtedly 
possible to annex some sense to such phrases as comparing ideas, 
—the juxta-position of ideas,—the perception of the agreements 
or disagreements of ideas: but, in most other branches of know¬ 
ledge, this jargon will be found, on examination, to be altogether 
unmeaning; and, instead of adding to the precision of our notions, 
to involve plain facts in technical and scholastic mystery. 

This last observation leads me to remark farther, that even 
when Locke speaks of reasoning in general, he seems in many cases 
to have had a tacit reference, in his own mind, to mathematical 
demonstration; and the same criticism may be extended to every 
logical writer whom I know, not excepting Aristotle himself. 
Perhaps it is chiefly owing to this, that their discussions are so 
often of very little practical utility; the rules which result from 
them being wholly superfluous, when applied to mathematics; and, 
when extended to other branches of knowledge, being unsuscep¬ 
tible of any precise or even intelligible interpretation. 

II. Conclusions obtained by a Process of Deduction often mistaken 
for Intuitive Judgments. —It has been frequently remarked, that the 
justest and most efficient understandings are often possessed by 
men who are incapable of stating to others, or even to themselves, 
the grounds on which they proceed in forming their decisions. 
[In some instances, I have been disposed to ascribe this to the 
faults of early education; but in other cases, I am persuaded, that 


PART II. 


CHAP. II. 


334 


it was the effect of active and imperious habits in quickening the 
evanescent processes of thought, so as to render them untraceable 
by the memory; and to give the appearance of intuition to what was 
in fact the result of a train of reasoning so rapid as to escape notice. 
This I conceive to be the true theory of what is generally called 
common sense, in opposition to book learning; and it serves to 
account for the use which has been made of this phrase, by various 
writers, as synonymous with intuition.] 

These seemingly instantaneous judgments have always appeared 
to me as entitled to a greater share of our confidence than many of 
our more deliberate conclusions; inasmuch as they have been 
forced, as it were, on the mind by the lessons of long experience; 
and are as little liable to be biassed by temper or passion, as the 
estimates we form of the distances of visible objects. They consti¬ 
tute, indeed, to those who are habitually engaged in the busy scenes 
of life, a sort of peculiar faculty, analogous, both in its origin and in 
its use, to the coup d’ceil of the military engineer, or to the quick 
and sure tact of the medical practitioner, in marking the diagnostics 
of disease. 

For this reason, I look upon the distinction between our intui¬ 
tive and deductive judgments as, in many cases, merely an object 
of theoretical curiosity. In those simple conclusions which all men 
are impelled to form by the necessities of their nature, and in 
which we find an uniformity not less constant than in the acquired 
perceptions of sight, it is of as little consequence to the logician to 
spend his time in efforts to retrace the first steps of the infant 
understanding, as it would be to the sailor or the sportsman to 
study, with a view to the improvement of his eye, the Berkeleian 
theory of vision. In both instances, the original faculty and the 
acquired judgment are equally entitled to be considered as the work 
of nature; and in both instances we find it equally impossible to 
shake off her authority. It is no wonder, therefore, that, in popular 
language, such words as common sense and reason should be used 
with a considerable degree of latitude; nor is it of much import¬ 
ance to the philosopher to aim at extreme nicety in defining their 
province, where all mankind, whether wise or ignorant, think and 
speak alike. 

In some rare and anomalous cases, a rapidity of judgment in the 
more complicated concerns of life, appears in individuals who have 
had so few opportunities of profiting by experience, that it seems, 
on a superficial view, to be the immediate gift of heaven. But, in 
all such instances (although a great deal must undoubtedly be 
ascribed to an inexplicable aptitude or predisposition of the intel¬ 
lectual powers), we may be perfectly assured, that every judgment 
of the understanding is preceded by a process of reasoning or 
deduction, whether the individual himself be able to recollect it or 
not. Of this I can no more doubt, than I could bring myself to 
believe that the arithmetical prodigy, who has, of late, so justly 


OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. 335 

attracted the attention of the curious, is able to extract square and 
cube roots by an instinctive and instantaneous perception, because 
the process of mental calculation, by which he is led to the result, 
eludes all his efforts to recover it. (See note bb.) 

It is remarked by Mr. Hume, with respect to the elocution of 
Oliver Cromwell, that “ it was always confused, embarrassed, and 
unintelligible.” “ The great defect, however,” he adds, “ in 
Oliver’s speeches consisted, not in his want of elocution, but in his 
want of ideas; the sagacity of his actions, and the absurdity of 
his discourse, forming the most prodigious contrast that ever was 
known.” “ In the great variety of human geniuses,” says the same 
historian, upon a different occasion, “ there are some which, though 
they see their object clearly and distinctly in general; yet, when 
they come to unfold its parts by discourse or writing, lose that 
luminous conception which they had before attained. All accounts 
agree in ascribing to Cromwell a tiresome, dark, unintelligible 
elocution, even when he had no intention to disguise his meaning: 
yet, no man’s actions were ever, in such a variety of difficult inci¬ 
dents, more decisive and judicious.” 

The case here described may be considered as an extreme one; 
but every person of common observation must recollect facts some¬ 
what analogous, which have fallen under his own notice. Indeed, 
it is no more than we should expect, a priori , to meet with in every 
individual whose early habits have trained him more to the active 
business of the world, than to those pursuits which prepare the 
mind for communicating to others its ideas and feelings with clear¬ 
ness and effect. 

An anecdote which I heard, many years ago, of a late very emi¬ 
nent Judge (Lord Mansfield) has often recurred to my memory, 
while reflecting on these apparent inconsistencies of intellectual 
character. A friend of his, who possessed excellent natural talents, 
but who had been prevented, by his professional duties as a naval 
officer, from bestowing on them all the cultivation of which they 
were susceptible, having been recently appointed to the government 
of Jamaica, happened to express some doubts of his competency to 
preside in the Court of Chancery. Lord Mansfield assured him 
that he would find the difficulty not so great as he. apprehended. 
44 Trust,” he said, “ to your own good sense in forming your opin¬ 
ions ; but beware of attempting to state the grounds of your judg¬ 
ments. The judgment will probably be right—the argument will 
infallibly be wrong.” (See note cc.) 

From what has been said, it seems to follow, that although a 
man should happen to reason ill in support of a sound conclusion, 
we are by no means entitled to infer with confidence, that he judged 
right merely by accident. It is far from being impossible that he 
may have committed some mistake in stating to others (perhaps in 
retracing to himself) the grounds upon which his judgment was 
really founded. Indeed, this must be the case, wherever a shrewd 


PART IT. 


CHAP. II. 


336 


understanding in business is united with an incapacity for clear and 
luminous reasoning; and something of the same sort is incident, 
more or less, to all men (more particularly to men of quick parts) 
when they make an attempt, in discussions concerning human 
affairs, to remount to first principles. It may be added, that in the 
old, this correctness of judgment often remains, in a surprising 
degree, long after the discursive or argumentative power would 
seem, from some decay of attention, or confusion in the succession 
of ideas, to have been sensibly impaired by age or by disease. 

In consequence of these views, as well as of various others foreign 
to the present subject, I am led to entertain great doubts about the 
solidity of a very specious doctrine laid down by Condorcet, in his 
“ Essay on the Application of Mathematical Analysis to the Proba¬ 
bilities of Decisions resting upon the Votes of a Majority.” “ It is 
extremely possible,” he observes, “ that the decision which unites 
in its favour the greatest number of suffrages, may comprehend a 
variety of propositions, some of which, if stated apart, would have 
had a plurality of voices against them ; and, as the truth of a system 
of propositions supposes that each of the propositions composing it 
is true, the probability of the system can be rigorously deduced 
only from an examination of the probability of each proposition, 
separately considered.” * 

When this theory is applied to a court of law, it is well known to 
involve one of the nicest questions in practical jurisprudence; and, 
in that light, I do not presume to have formed any opinion with 
respect to it. It may be doubted, perhaps, if it be not one of those 
problems, the solution of which, in particular instances, is more 
safely entrusted to discretionary judgment than to the rigorous 
application of any technical rule founded on abstract principles. I 
have introduced "the quotation here, merely on account of the proof 
which it has been supposed to afford, that the seeming diversities 
of human belief fall, in general, greatly short of the reality. On 
this point, the considerations already stated, strongly incline me to 
entertain an idea directly contrary. My reasons for thinking so 
may be easily collected from the tenor of the preceding remarks. 

It is time, however, to proceed to the examination of those 
discursive processes, the different steps of which admit of being 
distinctly stated and enunciated in the form of logical arguments, 
and which, in consequence of this circumstance, furnish more certain 
and palpable data for our speculations. I begin with some remarks 
on the Power of General Reasoning, for the exercise of which (as I 
formerly endeavoured to show) the use of language, as an instru¬ 
ment of thought, is indispensably requisite. 


* Essai sur l’Application de 1’Analyse a la Probability des Decisions rendues a la 
pluralite des Voix.—Disc. Prel. pp. 46, 47. 

Some of the expressions in the above quotation are not agreeable to the idiom of our 
language; but I did not think myself entitled to depart from the phraseology of the 
original. The meaning is sufficiently obvious. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


337 


CHAPTER III. 

OF GENERAL REASONING. 

I. Illustrations of some Remarks formerly stated in treating of 
Abstraction .—I should scarcely have thought it necessary to resume 
the consideration of Abstraction here, if I had not neglected, in my 
First Part, to examine the force of an objection to Berkeley’s doc¬ 
trine concerning abstract general ideas, on which great stress is 
laid by Dr. Reid, in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man; 
and which some late writers seem to have considered as not less 
conclusive against the view of the question which I have taken. 
Of this objection I was aware from the first, but was unwilling, by 
replying to it in form, to lengthen a discussion which savoured so 
much of the schools, more especially as I conceived that I had 
guarded my own argument from any such attack, by the cautious 
terms in which I had expressed it. Having since had reason to 
believe that I was precipitate in forming this judgment, and that 
Reid’s strictures on Berkeley’s theory of General Signs have pro¬ 
duced a deeper impression than I had expected,* I shall endeavour 
to obviate them, at least as far as they apply to myself, before 
entering on any new speculations concerning our reasoning powers, 
and shall, at the same time, introduce some occasional illustrations 
of the principles which I formerly endeavoured to establish. 

To prevent the possibility of misrepresentation, I state Dr. 
Reid’s objection in his own words. 

“ Berkeley, in his reasoning against abstract general ideas, seenis 
unwillingly or unwaringly to grant all that is necessary to support 
abstract and general conceptions. 

“ A man,” says Berkeley, “ may consider a figure merely as tri¬ 
angular, without attending to the particular qualities of the angles, 
or relations of the sides. So far he may abstract. But this will 
never prove that he can frame an abstract general inconsistent idea 
of a triangle.” 

Upon this passage Dr. Reid makes the following remark: “ If a 
man may consider a figure merely as triangular, he must have some 
conception of this object of his consideration; for no man can con¬ 
sider a thing which he does not conceive. He has a conception, 
therefore, of a triangular figure, merely as such. I know no more 
that is meant by an abstract general conception of a triangle.” 

“ He that considers a figure merely as triangular (continues the 
same author) must understand what is meant by the word triangular. 
If to the conception he joins to this word, he adds any particular 

* See a book entitled, Elements of Intellectual Philosophy, by the late learned and 
justly regretted Mr. Scott, of King’s College, Aberdeen, p. 118, et seq. (Edinburgh, 
1805.) I have not thought it necessary to reply to Mr. Scott’s own reasonings, which 
do not appear to me to throw much new light on the question; but I thought it right 
to refer to them here, that the reader may, if he pleases, have an opportunity of judging 
for himself. 


338 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


quality of angles or relation of sides, he misunderstands it, and 
does not consider the figure merely as triangular. Whence I think 
it is evident, that he who considers a figure merely as triangular, 
must have the conception of a triangle, abstracting from any qua¬ 
lity of angles or relations of sides. 5 ’ (Reid’s Intellectual Powers, 
Essay V. Chap. vi. § 13. 8vo. edit. 1843.) 

Eor what appears to myself to be a satisfactory answer to this 
reasoning, I have only to refer to the First Part of these Elements. 
The remarks to which I allude are to be found in the third section 
of chapter fourth; and I must beg leave to recommend them to the 
attention of my readers, as a necessary preparation for the following 
discussion. 

In the farther prosecution of the same argument, Dr. Reid lays 
hold of an acknowledgment which Berkeley has made, “ That we 
may consider Peter so far forth as man, or so far forth as animal, 
inasmuch as all that is perceived is not considered.”—“ It may 
here,” says Reid, “ be observed, that he who considers Peter so far 
forth as man, or so far forth as animal, must conceive the meaning 
of those abstract general words man and animal; and he who con¬ 
ceives the meaning of them, has an abstract general conception.” 

According to the definition of the word conception, which I have 
given in treating of that faculty of the mind, a general conception 
is an obvious impossibility. But, as Dr. Reid has chosen to annex 
a more extensive meaning to the term than seems to me consistent 
with precision, I would be far from being understood to object to 
his conclusion, merely because it is inconsistent with an arbitrary 
definition of my own. Let us consider, therefore, how far this 
doctrine is consistent with itself; or rather, since both parties are 
evidently so nearly agreed about the principal fact, which of the 
two have adopted the more perspicuous and philosophical mode of 
stating it. 

In the first place, then, let it be remembered as a thing admitted 
on both sides, “ that we have a power of reasoning concerning a 
figure considered merely as triangular, without attending to the 
particular qualities of the angles, or relations of the sides;” and 
also, that “ we may reason concerning Peter or John, considered so 
far forth as man, or so far forth as animal.” About these facts there 
is but one opinion; and the only question is, Whether it throws 
additional light on the subject, to tell us, in scholastic language, 
that “ we are enabled to carry on these general reasonings, in con¬ 
sequence of the power which the mind has of forming abstract 
general conceptions.” To myself it appears, that this last statement 
(even on the supposition that the word conception is to be under¬ 
stood agreeably to Dr. Reid’s own explanation), can serve no other 
purpose than that of involving a plain and simple truth in obscurity 
and mystery. If it be used in the sense in which I have invariably 
employed it in this work, the proposition is altogether absurd and 
incomprehensible. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


339 


For the more complete illustration of this point, I rnust here 
recur to a distinction formerly made between the abstractions which 
are subservient to reasoning, and those which are subservient to 
imagination. “ In every instance in which imagination is employed 
in forming new wholes, by decompounding and combining the 
perceptions of sense, it is evidently necessary that the poet or the 
painter should be able to state or represent to himself the circum¬ 
stances abstracted, as separate objects of conception. But this is 
by no means requisite in every case in which abstraction is subser¬ 
vient to the power of reasoning; for it frequently happens, that we 
can reason concerning the quality or property of an object abstracted 
from the rest, while, at the same time, we find it impossible to 
conceive it separately. Thus, I can reason concerning extension 
and figure, without any reference to colour, although it may be 
doubted, if a person possessed of sight can make extension and 
figure steady objects of conception, without connecting with them 
the idea of one colour or another. Nor is this always owing (as it 
is in the instance just mentioned) merely to the association of ideas; 
for there are cases, in which we can reason concerning things sepa¬ 
rately, which it is impossible for us to suppose any mind so consti¬ 
tuted as to conceive a part. Thus we can reason concerning 
length, abstracted from any other dimension ; although, surely, no 
unclerstanding can make length, without breadth, an object of con¬ 
ception.”—(First Part, page 84). In like manner, while I am 
studying Euclid’s demonstration of the equality of the three angles 
of a triangle to two right angles, I find no difficulty in following 
his train of reasoning, although it has no reference whatever to the 
specific size or to the specific form of the diagram before me. I 
abstract therefore, in this instance, from both of these circumstances 
presented to my senses by the immediate objects of my perceptions, 
and yet, it is manifestly impracticable for me either to delineate on 
paper, or to conceive in the mind, such a figure as shall not include 
the circumstances from which I abstract, as well as those on which 
the demonstration hinges. . 

In order to form a precise notion of the manner in which this 
process of the mind is carried on, it is necessary to attend to the 
close and inseparable connexion which exists between the faculty 
of general reasoning, and the use of artificial language. It is in 
consequence of the aids which this lends to our natural faculties, 
that we are furnished with a class of signs, expressive of all the 
circumstances which we wish our reasonings to comprehend ; and, 
at the same time, exclusive of all those which we wish to leave out 
of consideration. The word triangle, for instance, when used 
without any additional epithet, confines the attention to the three 
angles and three sides of the figure before us ; and reminds us, as 
w T e°proceed, that no step of our deduction is to turn on any of the 
specific varieties which that figure may exhibit. The notion, how¬ 
ever, which we annex to the word triangle, while we are reading 

z 2 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


340 


the demonstration, is not the less a particular notion, that this word, 
from its partial or abstracted import, is equally applicable to an 
infinite variety of other individuals.* 

These observations lead, in my opinion, to so easy an explanation 
of the transition from particular to general reasoning, that I shall 
make no apology for prosecuting the subject a little farther, before 
leaving this branch of my argument. 

It will not, I apprehend, be denied, that when a learner first 
enters on the study of geometry, he considers the diagrams before 
him as individual objects, and as individual objects alone. In 
reading, for example, the demonstration just referred to, of the 
equality of the three angles of every triangle to two right angles, 
he thinks only of the triangle which is presented to him on the 
margin of the page. Nay, so completely does this particular figure 
engross his attention, that it is not without some difficulty he, in 
the first instance, transfers the demonstration to another triangle 
whose form is very different, or even to the same triangle placed 
in an inverted position. It is in order to correct this natural bias 
of the mind, that a judicious teacher, after satisfying himself that 
the student comprehends perfectly the force of the demonstration, 
as applicable to the particular triangle which Euclid has selected, 
is led to vary the diagram in different ways, with a view to show 
him, that the very same demonstration, expressed in the very same 
form of words, is equally applicable to them all. In this manner 
he comes, by slow degrees, to comprehend the nature of general 
reasoning, establishing insensibly in his mind this fundamental 
logical principle, that when the enunciation of a mathematical pro¬ 
position involves only a certain portion of the attributes of the 
diagram which is employed to illustrate it, the same proposition 
must hold true of any other diagram involving the same attributes, 
how much soever distinguished from it by other specific pecu¬ 
liarities.f 

* “ By this imposition of names, some of larger, some of stricter signification, we 
turn the reckoning of the consequences of things imagined in the mind, into a reckon¬ 
ing of the consequences of appellations. For example, a man that hath no use of 
speech at all (such as is born and remains perfectly deaf and dumb) if he set before his 
eyes a triangle, and by it two right angles (such as are the corners of a square figure) 
he may by meditation compare and find, that the three angles of that triangle are 
equal to those right angles that stand by it. But if another triangle be shown him, dif¬ 
ferent in shape from the former, he cannot know, without a new labour, whether the 
three angles of that also be equal to the same. But he that hath the use of words, 
when he observes that such equality was consequent, not to the length of the sides, nor 
to any particular thing in this triangle ; but only to this, that the sides were straight 
and the angles three ; and that that was all for which he named it a triangle ; will 
boldly conclude universally, that such equality of angles is in all triangles whatsoever ; 
and register his invention in these general terms, Every triangle hath its three angles* 
equal to two right angles. And thus the consequence found in one particular, comes to 
be registered and remembered as an universal rule ; and discharges our mental reck¬ 
oning of time and place; and delivers us from all labour of the mind, saving the first; 
and makes that which was found true here, and now, to be true in all times and places.’’ 
—Hobbes, Of Man, Part I. chap. iv. 

f In order to impress the mind still more forcibly with the same conviction, some 
have supposed that it might be useful, in an elementary work, such as that of Euclid, 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


341 

Of all the generalisations in geometry, there are none into which 
the mind enters so easily, as those which relate to diversities in 
point of size or magnitude. Even in reading the very first demon¬ 
strations of Euclid, the learner almost immediately sees, that the 
scale on which the diagram is constructed, is as completely out of 
the question as the breadth or the colour of the lines which it pre¬ 
sents to his external senses. The demonstration, for example, of 
the fourth proposition, is transferred, without any conscious process 
of reflection, from the two triangles on the margin of the page, to 
those comparatively large ones which a public teacher exhibits on 
his board or slate to a hundred spectators. I have frequently, 
however, observed in beginners, while employed in copying such 
elementary diagrams, a disposition to make the copy, as nearly as 
possible, both in size and figure, a fac-simile of the original. 

The generalisations which extend to varieties of form and of 
position, are accomplished much more slowly; and, for this obvious 
reason, that these varieties are more strongly marked and discrimi¬ 
nated from one another, as objects of vision and of conception. 
How difficult (comparatively speaking) in such instances, the 
generalising process is, appears manifestly from the embarrassment 
which students experience, in applying the fourth proposition to 
the demonstration of the fifth. The inverted position, and the 
partial coincidence of the two little triangles below the base, seem 
to render their mutual relation so different from that of the two 
separate triangles which had been previously familiarised 
eye, that it is not surprising this step of the reasoning should be 

to omit the diagrams altogether, leaving the student to delineate them for himself, 
agreeably to the terms of the enunciation and of the construction. And were the stu y 
of geometry to be regarded merely as subservient to that of logic, much might be 
alleged in confirmation of this idea. Where, however, it is the main purpose of the 
teacher (as almost always happens) to familiarise the mind of his pupil with the lunaa- 
mental principles of the science, as a preparation for the study of physics and o e 
other parts of mixed mathematics, it cannot be denied, that such a practice would be 
far less favourable to the memory than the plan which Euclid has adopted, of annexing 
to each theorem an appropriate diagram, with which the general truth comes very soon 
to be strongly associated. Nor is this circumstance found to be attended in practice 
with the inconvenience it may seem to threaten ; inasmuch as the student, without any 
reflection whatever on logical principles, generalises the particular example, according 
to the different cases which may occur, as easily and unconsciously as he could nave 
applied to these cases the general enunciation. . 

The same remark may be extended to the other departments of our knowledge , m 
all of which it will be found useful to associate with every important general conclusion, 
some particular example or illustration, calculated, as much as possible, to present an 
impressive image to the power of conception. By this means, while the example gives 
us a firmer hold, and a readier command of the general theorem, the theorem, m its 
turn, serves to correct the errors into which the judgment might be led by the specific 
peculiarities of the example. Hence, by the way, a strong argument in favour of the 
practice recommended by Bacon, of connecting emblems with promotions, as the most 
powerful of all adminicles to the faculty of memory; and hence the aid which this 
faculty may be expected to receive, in point of promptitude, if not of correctness, from 
a lively imagination. Nor is it the least advantage of this practice, that it supplies us 
at all times with ready and apposite illustrations to facilitate the communication of our 
general conclusions to others. But the prosecution of these hints would lead me too 
far astray from the subject of this section. 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


342 


followed, by the mere novice, with some degree of doubt and hesi¬ 
tation. Indeed, where nothing of this sort is manifested, I should 
be more inclined to ascribe the apparent quickness of his appre¬ 
hension to a retentive memory, seconded by implicit faith in his 
instructor; than to regard it as a promising symptom of mathe¬ 
matical genius. 

Another, and perhaps a better, illustration of that natural logic 
which is exemplified in the generalisation of mathematical reason¬ 
ings, may be derived from those instances where the same demon¬ 
stration applies, in the same words, to what are called, in geometry, 
the different cases of a proposition . In the commencement of our 
studies, we read the demonstration over and over, applying it 
successively to the different diagrams; and it is not without some 
wonder we discover, that it is equally adapted to them all. In 
process of time, we learn that this labour is superfluous; and if we 
find it satisfactory in one of the cases, can anticipate with con¬ 
fidence the justness of the general conclusion, or the modifications 
which will be necessary to accommodate it to the different forms of 
which the hypothesis may admit. 

The algebraical calculus, however, when applied to geometry, 
places the foregoing doctrine in a point of view still more striking; 
“ representing,” to borrow the words of Dr. Halley, “ all the 
possible cases of a problem at one view; and often in one general 
theorem comprehending whole sciences; which deduced at length 
into propositions, and demonstrated after the manner of the 
ancients, might well become the subject of large treatises.” (Philos. 
Transact. No. 205. Miscell. Cur. vol. i. p. 348.) Of this remark, 
Halley gives an instance in a formula, which when he first 
published it, was justly regarded “ as a notable instance of the 
great use and comprehensiveness of algebraic solutions.” I allude 
to his formula for finding universally the foci of optic lenses; an 
example which I purposely select, as it cannot fail to be familiarly 
known to all who have the slightest tincture of mathematical and 
physical science. 

In such instances as these, it will not surely be supposed, that 
while we read the geometrical demonstration, or follow the succes¬ 
sive steps of the algebraical process, our general conceptions embrace 
all the various possible cases to which our reasonings extend. So 
very different is the fact, that the wide grasp of the conclusion is 
discovered only by a sort of subsequent induction ; and, till habit 
has familiarised us with similar discoveries, they never fail to be 
attended with a certain degree of unexpected delight. Dr. Halley 
seems to have felt this strongly when the optical formula, already 
mentioned, first presented itself to his mind. 

[In the foregoing remarks, I have borrowed my examples from 
mathematics , because, at the period of life when we enter on this 
study, the mind has arrived at a sufficient degree of maturity to be 
able to reflect accurately on every step of its own progress; 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


343 


whereas, in those general conclusions to which we have been 
habituated from childhood\ it is quite impossible for us to ascertain, 
by any direct examination, what the processes of thought were, 
which originally led us to adopt them.] In this point of view, the 
first doubtful and unassured steps of the young geometer, present 
to the logician a peculiarly interesting and instructive class of 
phenomena, for illustrating the growth and development of our 
reasoning powers. The true theory, more especially of general 
reasoning, may be here distinctly traced by every attentive observer, 
and may hence be confidently applied (under due limitations) to 
all the other departments of human knowledge.* 

From what has been now said, it would appear, that, in order to 
arrive at a general conclusion in mathematics (and the same obser¬ 
vation holds with respect to other sciences) two different processes 
of reasoning are necessary. The one is the demonstration of the 
proposition in question; in studying which we certainly think of 
nothing but the individual diagram before us. The other is, the 
train of thought by which we transfer the particular conclusion to 
which we have been thus led, to any other diagram to which the 
same enunciation is equally applicable. As this last train of thought 
is, in all cases, essentially the same, we insensibly cease to repeat 
it when the occasion for employing it occurs, till we come at length, 

* The view of general reasoning which is given above, appears to myself to afford 
(without any comment) a satisfactory answer to the following argument of the late 
worthy and learned Dr. Price : “ That the universality consists in the idea, and not 
merely in the name, as used to signify a number of particulars, resembling that which 
is the immediate object of reflection, is plain ; because, was the idea to which the name 
answers, and which it recalls into the mind, only a particular one, we could not know 
to what other ideas to apply it, or what particular objects had the resemblance neces¬ 
sary to bring them within the meaning of the name. A person, in reading over a 
mathematical demonstration, certainly is conscious that it relates to somewhat else, 
than just that precise figure presented to him in the diagram. But if he knows not 
what else, of what use can the demonstration be to him 1 How is his knowledge 
enlarged by it ? Or how shall he know afterwards to what to apply it V } 

In a note upon this passage, Dr. Price observes, that, t( according to Dr. Cudworth, 
abstract ideas are implied in the cognoscitive power of the mind ; which, he says, con¬ 
tains in itself virtually (as the future plant or tree is contained in the seed) general 
notions or exemplars of all things, which are exerted by it, or unfold and discover 
themselves, as occasions invite, and proper circumstances occur.” “This, no doubt,” 
Dr. Price adds, (i many will very freely condemn as whimsical and extravagant. 

I have, I own, a different opinion of it; but yet I should not care to be obliged to 
defend it.”—Review of the Principal Questions in Morals, pp. 38-39, 2nd edit. 

For my own part, I have no scruple to say, that I consider this fancy of Cudworth 
as not only whimsical and extravagant, but as altogether unintelligible ; and yet it 
appears to me, that some confused analogy of the same sort must exist in the mind of 
every person who imagines that he has the power of forming general conceptions with¬ 
out the intermediation of language. . 

In the continuation of the same note, Dr. Price seems disposed to sanction another 
remark of Dr. Cudworth : in which he pronounces the opinion of the Nominalists to 
be so ridiculous and false, as to deserve no confutation. I suspect, that when Dr. 
Cudworth wrote this splenetic and oracular sentence, he was out of humour with some 
argument of Hobbes, which he found himself unable to answer. It is not a little re¬ 
markable, that the doctrine which he here treats with so great contempt, should, with 
a very few exceptions, have united the suffrages of all the soundest philosophers of the 
eighteenth century. 


PART ir. 


CHAP. III. 


344 


without any reflection, to generalise our particular conclusion the 
moment it is formed ; or, in other words, to consider it as a propo¬ 
sition comprehending an indefinite variety of particular truths. 
When this habit is estabjished, we are apt to imagine,—forgetting 
the slow steps by which the habit was acquired,—that the general 
conclusion is an immediate inference from a general demonstration ; 
and that, although there was only one particular diagram present 
to our external senses, we must have been aware, at every step, 
that our thoughts were really conversant, not about this diagram, 
but about general ideas, or, in Dr. Reid’s language, general concep¬ 
tions. Hence the familiar use among logicians of these scholastic 
and mysterious phrases, which, whatever attempts may be made to 
interpret them in a manner not altogether inconsistent with good 
sense, have unquestionably the effect of keeping out of view the 
real procedure of the human mind in the generalisation of its 
knowledge. 

Dr. Reid seems to be of opinion, that it is by the power of form¬ 
ing general conceptions that man is distinguished from the brutes ; 
for he observes, that “ Berkeley’s system goes to destroy the barrier 
between the rational and animal natures.” I must own I do not 
perceive the justness of this remark, at least in its application to 
the system of the Nominalists, as I have endeavoured to explain and 
to limit it in the course of this work. On the contrary, it appears 
to me, that the account which has been just given of general 
reasoning, by ascribing to a process of logical deduction (presup¬ 
posing the previous exercise of abstraction or analysis) what Dr. 
Reid attempts to explain by the scholastic and not very intelligible 
phrase of general conceptions, places the distinction between man 
and brutes in a far clearer and stronger light than that in which 
philosophers have been accustomed to view it. That it is to the 
exclusive possession of the faculty of abstraction, and of the other 
powers subservient to the use of general signs, that our species is 
chiefly indebted for its superiority over the other animals, I shall 
afterwards endeavour to show. 

It still remains for me to examine an attempt which Dr. Reid 
has made to convict Berkeley of an inconsistency in the statement 
of his argument against abstract general ideas. “ Let us now con¬ 
sider,” says he, “ the bishop’s notion of generalising. An idea,” 
he tells us, “ which, considered in itself, is particular, becomes 
general, by being made to represent or stand for all other particular 
ideas of the same sort. To make this plain by an example. ‘ Sup¬ 
pose,’ says Berkeley, f a geometrician is demonstrating the method 
of cutting a line into two equal parts. He draws, for instance, a 
black line of an inch in length. This, which is in itself a particular 
line, is nevertheless, with regard to its signification, general; since, 
as it is there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever, so 
that what is demonstrated of it is demonstrated of all lines, or in 
other words, of a line in general. And as that particular line 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 3^5 

becomes general by being made a sign, so the same line, which, 
taken absolutely, is particular, by being a sign, is made general.” 

“ Here,” continues Dr. Reid, “ I observe, that when a particular 
idea is made a sign to represent and stand for all of a sort, this sup¬ 
poses a distinction of things into sorts or species. To be of a sort, 
implies having those, attributes which characterise the sort, and are 
common to all the individuals that belong to it. There cannot, 
therefore, be a sort without general attributes ; nor can there be 
any conception of a sort without a conception of those general attri¬ 
butes which distinguish it. The conception of a sort, therefore, is 
an abstract general conception. 

“ The particular idea cannot surely be made a sign of a thing of 
which we have no conception. I do not say, that you must have an 
idea of the sort; but surely you ought to understand or conceive 
what it means, when you make a particular idea a representative 
of it; otherwise your particular idea represents you know not 
what.” Reid’s Intel. Powers. Essay V. Chap. vi. § 16. &c. 

Although I do not consider myself as called upon to defend all 
the expressions which Berkeley may have employed in support of 
his opinion on this question, I must take the liberty of remarking, 
that, in the present instance, he appears to me to have been treated 
with an undue severity. By ideas of the same sort, it is plain he 
meant nothing more than things called by the same name, and, con¬ 
sequently (if our illustrations are to be borrowed from mathematics) 
comprehended under the terms of the same definition. In such 
cases, the individuals thus classed together are completely identified 
as subjects of reasoning; insomuch, that what is proved with 
respect to one individual must hold equally true of all the others. 
As it is an axiom in geometry, that things which are equal to one 
and the same thing, are equal to one another; so it may be stated, 
as a maxim in logic, that whatever things have the same name 
applied to them, in consequence of their being comprehended in 
the terms of the same definition, may all be considered as the same 
identical subject, in every case where that definition is the principle 
on which our reasoning proceeds. In reasoning, accordingly, con¬ 
cerning any sort or species of things, our thoughts have no occasion 
to wander from the individual sign or representative to which the 
attention happens to be directed, or to attempt the fruitless task of 
grasping at those specific varieties which are avowedly excluded 
from the number of our premises. As every conclusion which is 
logically deduced from the definition must, of necessity, hold 
equally true of all the individuals to which the common name is 
applicable, these individuals are regarded merely as so many units, 
which go to the composition of the multitude comprehended 
under the collective or generic term. Nor has the power of 
conception anything more to do in the business, than when, we 
think of the units expressed by a particular number in an arith¬ 
metical computation. 


316 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


The word sort is evidently transferred to our intellectual arrange¬ 
ments, from those distributions of material objects into separate 
heaps or collections, which the common sense of mankind univer¬ 
sally leads them to make for the sake of the memory ; or (which is 
perhaps nearly the same thing) with a view to the pleasure arising 
from the perception of order. A familiar instance of this pre¬ 

sents itself in the shelves, and drawers, and parcels, to which every 
shop-keeper has recourse for assorting, according to their respective 
denominations and prices, the various articles which compose his 
stock of goods. In one parcel (for example) he collects and incloses 
under one common envelope, all his gloves of a particular size and 
quality; in another, all his gloves of a different size and quality; 
and, in like manner, he proceeds with the stockings, shoes, hats, 
and the various other commodities with which his warehouse is 
filled. By this means, the attention of his shop-boy, instead of 
being bewildered among an infinitude of particulars, is confined to 
parcels or assortments of particulars; of each of which parcels a 
distinct idea may be obtained from an examination of any one of 
the individuals contained in it. These individuals, therefore, are, 
in his apprehension, nothing more than so many units in a multi¬ 
tude, any one of which units is perfectly equivalent to any other; 
while, at the same time, the parcels themselves, notwithstanding 
the multitude of units of which they are made up, distract his 
attention, and burden his memory as little, as if they were indivi¬ 
dual articles. The truth is, that they become to his mind individual 
objects of thought, like a box of counters, or a rouleau of guineas, 
or any of the other material aggregates with which his senses are 
conversant; or, to take an example still more apposite to our 
present purpose, like the phrases one thousand, or one million, 
when considered merely as simple units entering into the compo¬ 
sition of a numerical sum. 

The task which I have here supposed the tradesman to perform, 
in order to facilitate the work of his shop-boy, is exactly analogous, 
in its effect, to the aid which is furnished to the infant understand¬ 
ing by the structure of its mother-tongue; the generic words which 
abound in language assorting, and (if I may use the expression) 
packing up, under a comparatively small number of comprehensive 
terms, the multifarious objects of human knowledge.* In conse¬ 
quence of the generic terms to which, in civilised society, the mind 
is early familiarised, the vast multiplicity of things which compose 
the furniture of this globe are presented to it, not as they occur to 
the senses of the untaught savage, but as they have been arranged 
and distributed into parcels or assortments by the successive observ¬ 
ations and reflections of our predecessors. Were these arrange¬ 
ments and distributions agreeable, in every instance, to sound 
philosophy, the chief source of the errors to which we are liable in 

* The same analogy had occurred to Locke. u To shorten its way to knowledge, 
and make each perception more comprehensive, the mind binds them into bundles." 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


347 

all our general conclusions, would be removed; but it would be 
too much to expect, with some late theorists, that, even in the 
most advanced state either of physical or of moral science, this sup¬ 
position is ever to be realised in all its extent. At the same time, 
it must be remembered, that the obvious tendency of the progres¬ 
sive reason and experience of the species, is to diminish more and 
more the imperfections of the classifications which have been trans¬ 
mitted from ages of comparative ignorance; and, of consequence, 
to render language more and more a safe and powerful organ for 
the investigation of truth. 

The only science which furnishes an exception to these observa¬ 
tions is mathematics; a science essentially distinguished from every 
other by this remarkable circumstance, that the precise import of 
its generic terms is fixed and ascertained by the definitions which 
form the basis of all our reasonings, and in which, of consequence, 
the very possibility of error in our classifications is precluded, by 
the virtual identity of all those hypothetical objects of thought to 
which the same generic term is applied. 

I intend to prosecute this subject farther, before concluding my 
observations on general reasoning. At present, I have only to add 
to the foregoing remarks, that, [in the comprehensive theorems of 
the philosopher, as well as in the assortments of the tradesman, I 
cannot perceive a' single step of the understanding, which implies 
anything more than the notion of number , and the use of a common 
name^\ 

Upon the whole, it appears to me, that the celebrated dispute 
concerning abstract general ideas, which so long divided the schools, 
is now reduced, among correct thinkers, to this simple question of 
fact. Could the human mind, without the use of signs of one kind 
or another, have carried on general reasonings, or formed general 
conclusions? Before arguing with any person on the subject, I 
should wish for a categorical explanation on this preliminary point. 
Indeed, every other controversy connected with it turns on little 
more than the meaning of words. 

A difference of opinion with respect to this question of fact (or 
rather, I suspect, a want of attention in some of the disputants to 
the great variety of signs of which the mind can avail itself, inde¬ 
pendently of words) still continues to keep up a sort of distinction 
between the Nominalists and the Conceptualists. As for the 
Realists, they may, I apprehend, be fairly considered, in the present 
state of science, as having been already forced to lay down their 
arms. 

That the doctrine of the Nominalists has been stated by some 
writers of note in very unguarded terms, I do not deny,* nor am I 

* Particularly by Hobbes, some of whose incidental remarks and expressions would 
certainly, if followed strictly out to their logical consequences, lead to the complete 
subversion of truth, as a thing real, and independent of human opinion. It is to this, 
I presume, that Leibnitz alludes, when he says of him, “ Thomas Hobbes, qui ut verum 


318 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


certain that it was ever delivered by any one of the schoolmen in a 
form completely unexceptionable; but after the luminous, and, at 
the same time, cautious manner in which it has been unfolded by 
Berkeley and his successors, I own it appears to me not a little 
surprising, that men of talents and candour should still be found 
inclined to shut their eyes against the light, and to shelter them¬ 
selves in the darkness of the middle ages. For my own part, the 
longer and the more attentively that I reflect on the subject, the 
more am I disposed to acquiesce in the eulogium bestowed on 
Roscellinus and his followers by Leibnitz; one of the very few 
philosophers, if not the only philosopher, of great celebrity, who 
seems to have been fully aware of the singular merits of those by 
whom this theory was originally proposed: “ Secta Nominalium, 
omnium inter scliolasticas profundissima, et hodiernce reformats philo- 
sophandi rationi congruentissimadf It is a theory, indeed, much 
more congenial to the spirit of the eighteenth than of the eleventh 
century; nor must it be forgotten, that it was proposed and main¬ 
tained at a period w r hen the algebraical art, (or to express myself 
more precisely, universal arithmetic,) from which we now borrow 
our best illustrations in explaining and defending it, was entirely 
unknown. 

II. Of Language considered as an Instrument of Thought. —Having 
been led, in defence of some of my own opinions, to introduce a 
few additional remarks on the controversy with respect to the 
theory of general reasoning, I shall avail myself of this opportunity 
to illustrate a little farther another topic, (intimately connected with 
the foregoing argument) on which the current doctrines of modern 

fatear, mihi plus quam nominalis videtur.” [Thomas Hobbes, who to say the truth, 
appears to me more than a Nominalist.] 

I shall afterwards point out the mistake by which Hobbes seems to me to have been 
misled. In the meantime, it is but justice to him to say, that I do not think he had 
any intention to establish those sceptical conclusions which, it must be owned, may be 
fairly deduced as corollaries from some of his principles. Of this I would not wish 
for a stronger proof than his favourite maxim, that “ words are the counters of wise 
men, but the money of fools ;” a sentence which expresses, with marvellous concise¬ 
ness, not only the proper function of language, as an instrument of reasoning, but the 
abuses to which it is liable, when in unskilful hands. 

Dr. Gillies, who has taken much pains to establish Aristotle’s claims to all that is 
valuable in the doctrine of the Nominalists, has, at the same time, represented him as 
the only favourer of this opinion, by whom it has been taught without any admixture 
of those errors which are blended with it in the works of its modern revivers. Even 
Bishop Berkeley himself is involved with Hobbes and Hume in the same sweeping 
sentence of condemnation. u The language of the Nominalists seems to have been ex¬ 
tremely liable to be perverted to the purposes of scepticism, as taking away the specific 
distinctions of things ; and is in fact thus perverted by Hobbes, Berkeley, Hume, and 
their innumerable followers. But Aiustotle’s language is not liable to this abuse.” 
Gillies’s Aristotle, vol. i. p. 71, 2nd edit. 

Among these sceptical followers of Berkeley, we must, I presume, include the late 
leai’ned and ingenious Dr. Campbell; whose remarks on this subject I will, neverthe¬ 
less, venture to recommend to the particular attention of my readers. Indeed, I do 
not know of any writer who has treated it with more acuteness and perspicuity.—See 
Philosophy of Rhetoric, Book ii. chap. vii. 

f “ The Nominalists the most profound of the scholastic sects, and most in ac¬ 
cordance with the reformed philosophy of the present day.” 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


349 

logicians seeni to require a good deal more of explanation and 
restriction than has been commonly apprehended. Upon this 
subject I enter the more willingly, that, in my first volume, I have 
alluded to these doctrines in a manner which may convey, to some 
of my readers, the idea of a more complete acquiescence, on my 
part, in their truth, than I am disposed to acknowledge. 

In treating of abstraction, I endeavoured to show that we think, 
as well as speak, by means of words, and that, without the use of 
language, our reasoning faculty, if it could have been at all exer¬ 
cised, must necessarily have been limited to particular conclusions 
alone. The effects, therefore, of ambiguous and indefinite terms 
are not confined to our communications with others, but extend to 
our private and solitary speculations. Dr. Campbell, in his Philo¬ 
sophy of Rhetoric, has made some judicious and important observa¬ 
tions on this subject; and, at a much earlier period, it drew the 
attention of Des Cartes; who, in the course of a very valuable 
discussion with respect to the sources of our errors, has laid parti¬ 
cular stress on those to which we are exposed from the employ¬ 
ment of language as an instrument of thought. “ And, lastly, in 
consequence of the habitual use of speech, all our ideas become 
associated with the w r ords in which we express them; nor do we 
ever commit these ideas to memory, without their accustomed signs. 
Hence it is, that there is hardly any one subject, of which we have 
so distinct a notion as to be able to think of it abstracted from all 
use of language; and, indeed, as we remember words more easily 
than things, our thoughts are much more conversant with the former 
than with the latter. Hence, too, it is, that we often yield our 
assent to propositions, the meaning of which we do not understand; 
imagining that we have either examined formerly the import of all 
the terms involved in them, or that we have adopted these terms 
on the authority of others upon whose judgment we can rely.”* 

* “ Et denique, propter loquelse usum, conceptus omnes nostros verbis, quibus eos 
exprimimus, alligamus, nec eos, nisi jsimul cum istis verbis, memorise mandamus. 
Cumque facilius postea verborum quam rerum recordemur, vix unquam ullius rei 
conceptum habemus tam distinctum, ut ilium ab omni verborum conceptu separemus ; 
cogitationesque hominum fere omnium, circa verba magis quam circa res versantur ; 
adeo ut perssepe vocibus non intellects prsebeant assensum, quia putant se illos olim 
intellexisse, vel ab aliis qui eas recte intelligebant, accepisse.”—Princ. Phil. Pars 
Prima, lxxiv. 

I have quoted a very curious passage, nearly to the same purpose, from Leibnitz, in 
a note annexed to my First Part (see note l.) I was not then aware of the previous 
attention which had been given to this source of error by Des Cartes ; nor did I ex¬ 
pect to find so explicit an allusion to it in the writings of Aristotle, as I have since 
observed in the following paragraph : 

A 10 kcu tcov irapa tt)v A ovros 6 rpoiros Oereos' irpurov pa/, on paXXov rj anarri 
yiverai per aXXcvv (TKOTrovpevois i) Kaff eavrovs' rj pev yap per aXXoov (TKeif/is Sia Xoyov 
rj Se icaQ ’ avrovs, ovx tjttov Si avTov rov vpayparos' eira, Kai nad’ avrovs airaraadai 
(TvpfiaLi/ei, orav «rt rov Xoyov troi-prai rr)V aKerpiv ert, tj pev anarr] e/c ttjs opoiorrjros. 
dpoiorris, e/c rrjs X e|ews.— De Sophist. Elenchis, Lib. i. cap. vii. 

“ Wherefore, this sort is to be regarded as one of those in which language is concern¬ 
ed. In the first place, because the error happens to those considering along with others 
rather than by themselves, for consideration with others is by means of words, but by 
ourselves it is in a no less degree by means of the object itself ; and in considering by 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


350 


To these important considerations, it may be worth while to add, 
that whatever improvements may yet be made in language by philo¬ 
sophers, they never can relieve the student from the indispensable 
task of analysing with accuracy the complex ideas he annexes to 
the terms employed in his reasonings. The use of general terms, 
as Locke has remarked, is learned, in many cases, before it is pos¬ 
sible for us to comprehend their meaning; and the greater part of 
mankind continue to use them through life, without ever being at 
the trouble to examine accurately the notions they convey. This 
is a study which every individual must carry on for himself; and of 
which no rules of logic (how useful soever they may be in directing 
our labours) can supersede the necessity. 

Of the essential utility of a cautious employment of words, both 
as a medium of communication and as an instrument of thought, 
many striking illustrations might be produced from the history of 
science during the time that the scholastic jargon was current 
among the learned; a technical phraseology, which was not only 
ill calculated for the discovery of truth, but which was dexterously 
contrived for the propagation of error; and which gave to those who 
were habituated to the use of it, great advantages in controversy, 
at least in the judgment of the multitude, over their more enlight¬ 
ened and candid opponents. “ A blind wrestler, by fighting in a 
dark chamber,” to adopt an allusion of Des Cartes, “ may not only 
conceal his defect, but may enjoy some advantages over those who 
see. It is the light of day only that can discover his inferiority.” 
The imperfections of this philosophy, accordingly, have been ex¬ 
posed by Des Cartes and his followers, less by the force of their 


ourselves, it happens that we fall into error, when one considers by means of words. 
Still farther, the error is from resemblance, but the resemblance is in consequence 
of language.”—Concerning the Refutation of Sophisms. 

“ Quocirca inter eos (Paralogismos) qui in dictione consistunt, liic fallendi modus 
est ponendus. Primum, quia magis decipimur considerantes cum aliis, quam apud 
nosmetipsos : nam consideratio cum aliis per sermonem instituitur ; apud nosmetipsos 
autem non minus fit per rem ipsam. Deinde et per nosmetipsos ut fallamur accidit, 
cum in rebus considerandis serrno adhibetur : Prseterea deceptio est ex similitudine : 
similitudo autem ex dictione.”—Edit. Du Val. Vol. i. p. 289. 

Lest it should be concluded, however, from this detached remark, that Aristotle had 
completely anticipated Locke and Condillac in their speculations with respect to lan¬ 
guage, considered as an instrument of thought, I must beg of my readers to compare it 
with the previous enumeration given by the same author, of those paralogisms or fal¬ 
lacies which lie in the diction, (De Sophist. Elencliis, lib. i. cap. 4 ;)—recommending 
to them, at the same time, as a useful comment on the original, the twentieth chapter 
of the third book of a work entitled Instilutio Logica , by the learned and justly cele¬ 
brated Dr. Wallis, of Oxford. I select this work in preference to any other modern 
one on the same subject, as it has been lately pronounced, by an authority for which I 
entertain a sincere respect, to be “ a complete and accurate treatise of logic, strictly 
according to the Aristotelian method;” and as we are farther told that it is “ still 
used by many in the University to which Wallis belonged, as the lecture-book in that 
department of study.” I intend to quote part of this chapter on another occasion. 
At present, I shall only observe, that it does not contain the slightest reference to the 
passage which has led me to introduce these observations ; and which, I believe, will 
be now very generally allowed to be of greater value than all those puerile distinctions 
put together, which Dr. Wallis has been at so much pains to illustrate and to 
exemplify. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


351 

reasonings, than by their teaching men to make use of their own 
faculties, instead of groping in the artificial darkness of the schools ; 
and to perceive the folly of expecting to advance science by ringing 
changes on words to which they annexed no clear or precise ideas. 

In consequence of the influence of these views, the attention of 
our soundest philosophers was more and more turned, during the 
course of the last century, to the cultivation of that branch of logic 
which relates to the use of words. Mr. Locke’s observations on this 
subject form, perhaps, the most valuable part of his writings ; and, 
since his time, much additional light has been thrown upon it by 
Condillac and his successors. 

Important, however, as this branch of logic is in its practical 
applications : and highly interesting, from its intimate connexion 
with the theory of the human mind, there is a possibility of pushing, 
to an erroneous and dangerous extreme, the conclusions to which 
it has led. Condillac himself falls, in no inconsiderable a degree, 
under this censure ; having, upon more than one occasion, expressed 
himself as if he conceived it to be possible, by means of precise and 
definite terms, to reduce reasoning in all the sciences, to a sort of 
mechanical operation, analogous in its nature to those which are 
practised by the algebraist on letters of the alphabet. <f The art of 
reasoning (he repeats over and over) is nothing more than a lan¬ 
guage well arranged.”—“ L’art de raisonner se reduit a une langue 
bien faite.”* 

One of the first persons, as far as I know, who objected to the 
vagueness and incorrectness of this proposition, was M. de Gerando; 
to whom we are farther indebted for a clear and satisfactory expo¬ 
sition of the very important fact to which it relates. To this fact 
Condillac approximates nearly in various parts of his works ; but 
never, perhaps, without some degree of indistinctness and of 
exaggeration. The point of view in which it is placed by his 
ingenious successor, strikes me as so just and happy, that I cannot 
deny myself the pleasure of enriching my book with a few of his 
observations. 

“ It is the distinguishing characteristic of a lively and vigorous 
conception, to push its speculative conclusions somewhat beyond 
their just limits. Hence, in the logical discussions of this estimable 
writer, these maxims (stated without any explanation or restriction), 
‘ That the study of a science is nothing more than the acquisition ot 
a language ;’ and, * that a science properly treated is only a language 
well contrived.’ Hence the rash assertion, f That mathematics 
possess no advantage over other sciences, but what they derive from 
a better phraseology; and that all of these might attain to the same 
characters of simplicity and of certainty, if we knew how to give 
them signs equally perfect.’ ” (Des Signes et de l’Art de Penser,f 
&c. Introd. pp. xx. xxi.) 

* u The art of reasoning resolves itself into a well-constructed language.” 

•f “ Concerning Symbols and the Art of Thinking.” 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


352 


“ The same task which must have been executed by those who 
contributed to the first formation of a language, and which is exe¬ 
cuted by every child when he learns to speak it, is repeated over 
in the mind of every adult when he makes use of his mother 
tongue; for it is only by the decomposition of his thoughts that he 
can learn to select the signs which he ought to employ, and to dis¬ 
pose them in a suitable order. Accordingly, those external actions 
which we call speaking or writing, are always accompanied with a 
philosophical process of the understanding, unless we content our¬ 
selves, as too often happens, with repeating over mechanically what 
has been said by others. It is in this respect that languages, with 
their forms and rules, conducting (so to speak) those who use 
them into the path of a regular analysis; tracing out to them, in a 
well-ordered discourse, the model of a perfect decomposition, may 

be regarded in a certain sense as analytical methods.-But I stop 

short; Condillac, to whom this idea belongs, has developed it too 
well to leave any hope of improving upon his statement.” 

In a note upon this passage, however, M. de Gerando has cer¬ 
tainly improved not a little on the statement of Condillac. “ In 
asserting,” says he, “ that languages may be regarded as analytical 
methods, I have added the qualifying phrase, in a certain sense, for 
the word method cannot be employed here with exact propriety. 
Languages furnish the occasions and the means of analysis; that is 
to say, they afford us assistance in following that method : but they 
are not the method itself. They resemble signals or finger-posts 
placed on a road to enable us to discover our way ; and if they help 
us to analyse, it is because they are themselves the results, and, as 
it were, the monuments of an analysis which has been previously 
made ; nor do they contribute to keep us in the right path, but in 
proportion to the degree of judgment with which that analysis has 
been conducted.” (Ibid. pp. 158, 159, tom. i.) 

I was the more solicitous to introduce these excellent remarks, 
as I suspect that I have myself indirectly contributed to propagate 
in this country the erroneous opinion which it is their object to 
correct. By some of our later writers it has not only been im¬ 
plicitly adopted, but has been regarded as a conclusion of too great 
value to be suffered to remain in the quiet possession of the 
moderns. “ Aristotle,” says the author of a very valuable analysis 
of his works, “ well knew that our knowledge of things chiefly 
depending on the proper application of language as an instrument 
of thought, the true art of reasoning is nothing but a language 
accurately defined and skilfully arranged; an opinion which, after 
many idle declamations against his barren generalities and verbal 
trifling, philosophers have begun very generally to adopt.”* 

After this strong and explicit assertion of the priority of Aris¬ 
totle’s claim to the opinion which we are here told “ philosophers 

* Aristotle’s Ethics, &c. by Dr. Gillies, vol. i. p. 94, 2nd edit. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


853 


begin very generally to adopt,”* it is to be hoped, that M. de 
Gerando will be in future allowed to enjoy the undisputed honour 
of having seen a little farther into this fundamental article of logic 
than the Stagirite himself. 

III. Visionary Theories of some Logicians, occasioned by their in¬ 
attention to the Essential Distinction between Mathematics and other 
Sciences. —In a passage already quoted from De Gerando, he takes 
notice of what he justly calls a rash assertion of Condillac, “ That 
mathematics possess no advantage over other sciences, but what 
they derive from a better phraseology; and that all of them might 
attain to the same characters of simplicity and of certainty, if we 
knew how to give them signs equally perfect.” 

Leibnitz seems to point at an idea of the same sort, in those 
obscure and enigmatical hints (not altogether worthy, in my 
opinion, of his powerful and comprehensive genius) which he has 
thrown out, about the miracles to be effected by a new art of his 
own invention ; to which art he sometimes gives the name of Ars 
Combinatoria Characteristica, and sometimes of Ars Combinatoria 
Generalis ac Vera. In one of his letters to Mr. Oldenburg, he 
speaks of a plan he had long been meditating, of treating of the 
science of mind by means of mathematical demonstrations. “ Many 
wonderful things,” he adds, “ of this kind have occurred to me, 
which, at some future period, I shall explain to the public with 
that logical precision which the subject requires.”f In the same 

* The passage in my First Part, to which I suspect an allusion is here made, is as 
follows: 

44 The technical terms in the different sciences render the appropriate language of 
philosophy a still more convenient instrument of thought, than those languages which 
have originated from popular use ; and in proportion as these technical terms improve 
in point of precision and of comprehensiveness, they will contribute to render our in¬ 
tellectual progress more certain and more rapid. 4 While engaged,’ says M. Lavoisier, 
4 in the composition of my Elements of Chemistry, I perceived, better than I had ever 
done before, the truth of an observation of Condillac, that we think only through the 
medium of words, and that languages are true analytical methods. Algebra, which, 
of all our modes of expression, is the most simple, the most exact, and the best adapted 
to its purpose, is, at the same time, a language and an analytical method. The art of 
reasoning is nothing more than a language well arranged.’ The influence, I have 
added, which these very enlightened and philosophical views have already had on the 
docti’ines of chemistry, cannot fail to be known to most of my readers.” 

When this paragraph was first written, I was fully aware of the looseness and in¬ 
distinctness of Lavoisier’s expressions ; but as my only object in introducing the quo¬ 
tation was to illustrate the influence of general logical principles on the progress of 
particular sciences, I did not think it necessary, in the introduction to my work, to 
point out in what manner Condillac’s propositions were to be limited and corrected. 
I am truly happy, for the sake of M. De Gerando, that I happened to transcribe them 
in the same vague and very exceptionable terms in which I found them sanctioned by 
the names of Condillacyand of one of the most illustrious of his disciples. 

It will not, I hope, be considered as altogether foreign to the design of this note, if 
I remark further, how easy it is for a translator of Aristotle, in consequence of the 
unparalleled brevity which he sometimes affects, to accommodate the sense of the 
original, by the help of paraphrastical clauses, expressed in the phraseology of modem 
science, to every progressive step in the history of human knowledge. In truth, there 
is not one philosopher of antiquity, whose opinions, when they are stated in any terms 
but his own, are to be received with so great distrust. 

*t* 44 Multa in hoc genere mira a me sunt observata, quae aliquando, quo par est 
rigore, exposita dabo.” 


A A 


354 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


letter, he intimates his belief in the possibility of inventing an art, 
<c which, with an exactitude resembling that of mechanism, may 
render the operations of reason steady and visible, and, in their 
effects on the minds of others, irresistible.” * After which he pro¬ 
ceeds thus: 

<f Our common algebra, which we justly value so highly, is no 
more than a branch of that general art which I have here in view. 
But, such as it is, it puts it out of our power to commit an error, 
even although we should wish to do so; while it exhibits truth to 
our eyes like a picture stamped on paper by means of a machine. 
It must at. the same time be recollected, that algebra is indebted 
for whatever it accomplishes in the demonstration of general theo¬ 
rems to the suggestions of a higher science ; a science which I have 
been accustomed to call characteristical combination, very different, 
however, in its nature, from that which these words are likely at 
first to suggest to the hearer. The marvellous utility of this art I 
hope to illustrate, both by precepts and examples, if I shall be so 
fortunate as to enjoy health and leisure. 

“ It is impossible for me to convey an adequate idea of it in a 
short description. But this I may venture to assert, that no instru¬ 
ment (or organ) could easily be imagined of more powerful efficacy 
for promoting the improvement of the human understanding ; and 
that, supposing it to be adopted, as the common method of philo¬ 
sophising, the time would very soon arrive, when we should be 
able to form conclusions concerning God and the mind, with not 
less certainty than we do at present concerning figures and num¬ 
bers.” (Wallisii Opera, vol. iii. p. 621.) 

The following passage is translated from another letter of Leib¬ 
nitz to the same correspondent: 

“ The matter in question depends on another of much higher 
moment; I mean, on a general and true art of combination, of the 
extensive influence of which I do not know that any person has yet 
been fully aware. This, in truth, does not differ from that sublime 
analysis, into the recesses of which Des Cartes himself, as far as I 
can judge, was not able to penetrate. But, in order to carry it 
into execution, an alphabet of human thoughts must be previously 
formed : and for the invention of this alphabet, an analysis of 
axioms is indispensably necessary. I am not, however, surprised 
that nobody has yet sufficiently considered it; for we are, in 
general, apt to neglect what is easy, and to take many things for 
granted from their apparent evidence; faults which, while they 
remain uncorrected, will for ever prevent us from reaching the 
summit of things intellectual, by <the aid of a calculus adapted to 
moral as well as to mathematical science.” (Wallisii Opera, p.633.)f 

* “ Quod velut mechanica ratione fixam et visibilem et (ut ita dicam) irresistibilem 
reddat rationem.” 

f As these reveries of this truly great man are closely connected with the subse¬ 
quent history of logical speculation in more than one country of Europe, I have been 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


355 




In these extracts from Leibnitz, as well as in that quoted from 
Condillac, in the beginning of this article, the essential distinction 
between mathematics and the other sciences, in point of phraseology, 
is entirely overlooked. In the former science, where the use of an 
ambiguous word is impossible, it may be easily conceived how 
the solution of a problem may be reduced to something resembling 
the operation of a mill—the conditions of the problem, when once 
translated from the common language into that of algebra, disap¬ 
pearing entirely from the view; and the subsequent process being 
almost mechanically regulated by general rules, till the final result 
is obtained. In the latter, the whole of the words about which our 
reasonings are conversant, admit, more or less, of different shades of 
meaning; and it is only by considering attentively the relation in 
which they stand to the immediate context, that the precise idea of 
the author in any particular instance is to be ascertained. In these 
sciences, accordingly, the constant and unremitting exercise of the 
attention is indispensably necessary, to prevent us, at every step of 
our progress, from going astray. 

On this subject I have made various remarks in a volume lately 
published; to which I beg leave here to refer, in order to save the 
trouble of unnecessary repetitions. (Philosophical Essays, ^p. 153, 
et seq.) From what I have there said, I trust it appears that, in fol¬ 
lowing any train of reasoning, beyond the circle of the mathematical 
sciences, the mind must necessarily carry on, along with the logical 
deduction expressed in words, another logical process of a far nicer 
and more difficult nature ;—that of fixing, with a rapidity which 
escapes our memory, the precise sense of every word which is am¬ 
biguous, by the relation in which it stands to the general scope of 
the argument. In proportion as the language of science becomes 
more and more exact, the difficulty of this task will be gradually 
diminished; but let the improvement be carried to any conceivable 
extent, not one step will have been gained in accelerating that era, 
so sanguinely anticipated by Leibnitz and Condillac, when our rea¬ 
sonings in morals and politics shall resemble, in their mechanical 
regularity, and in their demonstrative certainty, the investigations 
of algebra. The improvements which language receives, in conse¬ 
quence of the progress of knowledge, consisting rather in a more 
precise distinction and classification of the various meanings of words, 
than in a reduction of these meanings in point of number, the task 
of mental induction and interpretation may be rendered more easy 
and unerring; but the necessity of this task can never be superseded, 
till every word which we employ shall be as fixed and invariable in 
its signification as an algebraical character, or as the name of a 
geometrical figure. 

induced to incorporate them, in an English version, with my own disquisitions. Some 
expressions, which, I am sensible, are not altogether agreeable, to the idiom of our 
language, might have been easily avoided, if I had not felt it incumbent on me, in 
translating an author whose meaning, in this instance, I was able but very imperfectly 
to comprehend, to deviate as little as possible from his own words. 

a a 2 


356 


PART n. 


ciiap. nr. 


In the mean time, the intellectual superiority of one man above 
another, in all the different branches of moral and political philoso¬ 
phy, will be found to depend chiefly on the success with which he 
has cultivated these silent habits of inductive interpretation—much 
more, in my opinion, than on his acquaintance with those rules 
which form the great objects of study to the professed logician. In 
proof of this, it is sufficient for me to remind my readers, that the 
whole theory of syllogism proceeds on the supposition that the same 
word is always to be employed precisely in the same sense, (for 
otherwise, the syllogism would be vitiated by consisting of more 
than three terms;) and, consequently, it takes for granted, in every 
rule which it furnishes for the guidance of our reasoning powers, 
that the nicest and by far the most difficult part of the logical pro¬ 
cess has been previously brought to a successful termination. 

In treating of a different question, I have elsewhere remarked, 
that although many authors have spoken of the wonderful mechan¬ 
ism of speech, no one has hitherto attended to the far more wonder¬ 
ful mechanism whi6h it puts into action behind the scene. A simi¬ 
lar observation will be found to apply to what is commonly called 
the art of reasoning. The scholastic precepts which profess to 
teach it, reach no deeper than the very surface of the subject; 
being all of them confined to that part of the intellectual process 
which is embodied in the form of verbal propositions. On the 
most favourable supposition which can be formed with respect to 
them, they are superfluous and nugatory ; but, in many cases, it is 
to be apprehended that they interfere with the right conduct of the 
understanding, by withdrawing the attention from the cultivation 
of that mental logic on which the soundness of our conclusions 
essentially depends, and in the study of which, although some 
general rules may be of use, every man must be, in a great measure, 
his own master.* 

In the practical application of the foregoing conclusions, it can¬ 
not fail to occur, as a consideration equally obvious and important, 
that, in proportion as the objects of our reasoning are removed 
from the particular details with which our senses are conversant, 
the difficulty of these latent inductive processes must be increased. 
This is the real source of that incapacity for general speculation, 
which Mr. Hume has so well described as a distinguishing character¬ 
istic of uncultivated minds. “ General reasonings seem intricate, 
merely because they are general; nor is it easy for the bulk of 
mankind to distinguish, in a great number of particulars, that 
common circumstance in which they all agree, or to extract it, pure 
and unmixed, from the other superfluous circumstances. Every judg¬ 
ment or conclusion with them is particular. They cannot enlarge 
their views to those universal propositions which comprehend under 

* Those who are interested in this discussion, will enter more completely into my 
views, if they take the trouble to combine what is here stated with some observations 
I have introduced in the First Part, chap. iv. sec. 2. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


357 

them an infinite number of individuals, and include a whole science 
in a single theorem. Their eye is confounded with such an exten¬ 
sive prospect, and the conclusions deduced from it, even though 
clearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure.” (Essay on Com¬ 
merce.) 

Difficult, however, and even impossible as the task of general 
speculation is to the bulk of mankind, it is nevertheless true, that 
it is the path which leads the cautious and skilful reasoner to all 
his most certain, as well as most valuable conclusions in morals and 
in politics. If a theorist, indeed, should expect, that these con¬ 
clusions are in every particular instance to be realised, he would 
totally misapprehend their nature and application; inasmuch as 
they are only to be brought to an experimental test, by viewing 
them on an extensive scale, and continuing our observations during 
a long period of time. “ When a man deliberates,” says Mr. 
Hume, “ concerning his conduct in any particular affair, and forms 
schemes in politics, trade, economy, or any business in life, he 
never ought to draw his arguments too fine, or connect too long a 
chain of consequences together. Something is sure to happen that 
will disconcert his reasoning, and produce an event different from 
what he expected. But when we reason upon general subjects, one 
may justly affirm, that our speculations can scarcely ever be too 
fine, provided they be just; and that the difference between a com¬ 
mon man and a man of genius is chiefly seen in the shallowness or 
depth of the principles on which they proceed.” The same author 
afterwards excellently observes, “ That general principles, however 
intricate they may seem, must always prevail, if they be just and 
sound, in the general course of things, though they may fail in 
particular cases; and that it is the chief business of philosophers to 
regard the general course of things.”—“ I may add,” continues 
Mr. Hume, “ that it is also the chief business of politicians, espe¬ 
cially in the domestic government of the state, where the public 
good, which is, or ought to be, their object, depends on the con¬ 
currence of a multitude of causes; not, as in foreign politics, on 
accidents and chances, and the caprices of a few persons.” (Essay 
on Commerce.)* 

To these profound reflections of Mr. Hume, it may be added, 
although the remark does not bear directly on our present argu¬ 
ment, that, in the systematical application of general and refined 
rules to their private concerns^ men frequently err from calculating 
their measures upon a scale disproportionate to the ordinary dura¬ 
tion of human life. This is one of the many mistakes into which 

* This contrast between the domestic and the foreign policy of a state, occurs more 
than once in Mr. Hume’s writings ; (see in particular the first paragraphs of his Essay 
on the Rise of Arts and Sciences.) A similar observation had long before been made 
by Polybius. “ There are two ways by which every kind of government is destroyed : 
either by some accident that happens from without; or some evil that arises within 
itself. What the first will be, it is not always easy to foresee ; but the latter is certain 
and determinate.”—Book vi. ex. 3. (Hampton’s Translation.) 


PART II. 


CHAP. III. 


358 


projectors are apt to fall; and hence the ruin which so often over¬ 
takes them, while sowing the seeds of a harvest which others are to 
reap. A few years more might have secured to themselves the 
prize which they had in view; and changed the opinion of the 
world (which is always regulated by the accidental circumstances of 
failure or of success) from contempt of their folly, into admiration 
of their sagacity and perseverance. 

It is observed by the Comte de Bussi, that “ time remedies all 
mischances ; and that men die unfortunate, only because they did 
not live long enough. Mareschal d’Estree, who died rich at a 
hundred, would have died a beggar, had he lived only to eighty.” 
The maxim, like most other apophthegms, is stated in terms much 
too unqualified; but it may furnish matter for many interesting 
reflections to those who have surveyed wixh attention the cha¬ 
racters which have passed before them on the stage of life; or who 
amuse themselves with marking the trifling and fortuitous circum¬ 
stances by which the multitude are decided, in pronouncing their 
verdicts of foresight or of improvidence. 

IV. Peculiar and supereminent Advantages possessed by Mathema¬ 
ticians, in consequence of their definite Phraseology. —If the remarks 
contained in the foregoing articles of this section be just, it will 
follow, that the various artificial aids to our reasoning powers which 
have been projected by Leibnitz and others, proceed on the suppo¬ 
sition—a supposition which is also tacitly assumed in the syllogistic 
theory—that, in all the sciences, the words which we employ have, 
in the course of our previous studies, been brought to a sense as 
unequivocal as the phraseology of mathematicians. They proceed 
on the supposition, therefore, that by far the most difficult part of 
the logical problem has been already solved. Should the period 
ever arrive when the language of moralists and politicians shall be 
rendered as perfect as that of geometers and algebraists, then, in¬ 
deed, may such contrivances as the Ars Combinatoria and the 
Alphabet of Human Thoughts become interesting subjects of philo¬ 
sophical discussion; although the probability is, that, even were 
that era to take place, they would be found nearly as useless in 
morals and politics as the syllogistic art is acknowledged to be at 
present, in the investigations of pure geometry. 

Of the peculiar and supereminent advantage possessed by mathe¬ 
maticians, in consequence of those fixed and definite relations 
which form the objects of their science, and the correspondent 
precision in their language and reasonings, I can think of no illus¬ 
tration more striking than what is afforded by Dr. Halley’s Latin 
version from an Arabic manuscript, of the two books of Apollonius 
Pergseus de Sectione Rationis. The extraordinary circumstances 
under which this version was attempted and completed, (which I 
presume are little known beyond the narrow circle of mathematical 
readers,) appear to me so highly curious, considered as matter of 
literary history, that I shall copy a short detail of them from Hal¬ 
ley’s preface. 


OF GENERAL REASONING. 


359 

After mentioning the accidental discovery in the Bodleian Library 
by Dr. Bernard, Savilian Professor of Astronomy, of the Arabic 
version of Apollonius, 7rept A .oyov anoro^s, Dr. Halley proceeds 
thus: 

“ Delighted, therefore, with the discovery of such a treasure, 
Bernard applied himself diligently to the task of a Latim translation. 
But before he had finished a tenth part of his undertaking, he 
abandoned it altogether, either from his experience of its growing 
difficulties, or from the pressure of other avocations. Afterwards, 
when, on the death of Dr. Wallis, the Savilian professorship was 
bestowed on me, I was seized with a strong desire of making a trial 
to complete what Bernard had begun;—an attempt, of the bold¬ 
ness of which the reader may judge, when he is informed, that, in 
addition to my own entire ignorance of the Arabic language, I had 
to contend with the obscurities occasioned by innumerable passages 
which were either defaced or altogether obliterated. With the 
assistance, however, of the sheets which Bernard had left, and 
which served me as a key for investigating the sense of the original, 
I began first with making a list of those words, the signification of 
which his version had clearly ascertained; and then proceeded, by 
comparing these words, wherever they occurred, with the train of 
reasoning in which they were involved, to decypher, by slow 
degrees, the import of the context; till at last I succeeded in mas¬ 
tering the whole work, and in bringing my translation (without the 
aid of any other person) to the form in which I now give it to the 
public.” (Apollon. Perg. de Sectione Rationis, &c. Opera et Studio 
Edm. Halley. Oxon. 1706. In Prsefat.) 

When a similar attempt shall be made with equal success, in 
decyphering a moral or a political treatise written in an unknown 
tongue, then, and not till then, may we think of comparing the 
phraseology of these two sciences with the simple and rigorous 
language of the Greek geometers; or with the more refined and 
abstract, but not less scrupulously logical system of signs, employed 
by modern mathematicians. 

It must not, however, be imagined, that it is solely by the nature 
of the ideas which form the objects of its reasonings, even when 
combined with the precision and unambiguity of its phraseology, 
that mathematics is distinguished from the other branches of our 
knowledge. The truths about which it is conversant, are of an 
order altogether peculiar and singular; and the evidence of which 
they admit resembles nothing, either in degree or in kind, to which 
the same name is given, in any of our other intellectual pursuits. 
On these points, also, Leibnitz and many other great men have 
adopted very incorrect opinions; and, by the authority of their 
names, have given currency to some logical errors of fundamental 
importance. My reasons for so thinking I shall state as clearly 
and fully as I can, in the following section. 


3G0 


PART IT. 


CHAP. IV. 


CHAPTER IV. 

OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 

I. Of the Circumstance on which Demonstrative Evidence essentially 
depends. — The peculiarity of that species of evidence which is called 
demonstrative, and which so remarkably distinguishes our mathe¬ 
matical conclusions from those to which we are led in other branches 
of science, is a fact which must have arrested the attention of every 
person who possesses the slightest acquaintance with the elements 
of geometry. And yet, I am doubtful if a satisfactory account has 
been hitherto given of the circumstance from which it arises. Mr. 
Locke tells us, that “ what constitutes a demonstration is intuitive 
evidence at every step;” and I readily grant, that if in a single 
step such evidence should fail, the other parts of the demonstration 
would be of no value. [It does not, however, seem to me that it is 
on this consideration that the demonstrative evidence of the con¬ 
clusion depends,—not even when we add to it another which is 
much insisted on by Dr. Reid,—that, “ in demonstrative evidence, 
our first principles must be intuitively certain.” The inaccuracy 
of this remark I formerly pointed out when treating of the evidence 
of axioms; on which occasion I also observed, that the first princi¬ 
ples of our reasonings in mathematics are not axioms, but definitions. 
It is -m this last circumstance (I mean the peculiarity of reasoning 
from definitions) that the true theory of mathematical demonstration 
is to be found; and I shall accordingly endeavour to explain it at 
considerable length, and to state some of the more important con¬ 
sequences to which it leads.] 

That I may not, however, have the appearance of claiming, in 
behalf of the following discussion, an undue share of originality, 
it is necessary for me to remark, that the leading idea which it 
contains has been repeatedly started, and even to a certain length 
prosecuted, by different writers, ancient as well as modern; but 
that, in all of them, it has been so blended with collateral consider¬ 
ations, altogether foreign to the point in question, as to divert the 
attention, both of writer and reader, from that single principle on 
which the solution of the problem hinges. The advantages which 
mathematics derives from the peculiar nature of those relations 
about which it is conversant; from its simple and definite phra¬ 
seology ; and from the severe logic so admirably displayed in the 
concatenation of its innumerable theorems, are indeed immense, 
and well entitled to a separate and ample illustration; but they do 
not appear to have any necessary connexion with the subject of 
this section. How far I am right in this opinion, my readers will 
be enabled to judge by the sequel. 

It was already remarked, in the first chapter of this Part, that 
whereas, in all other sciences, the propositions which we attempt 
to establish, express facts real or supposed,—in mathematics, the 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


361 


propositions which we demonstrate only assert a connexion between 
certain suppositions and certain consequences. Our reasonings, 
therefore, in mathematics, are directed to an object essentially dif¬ 
ferent from what we have in view in any other employment of our 
intellectual faculties;—not to ascertain truths with respect to actual 
existences, but to trace the logical filiation of consequences which 
follow from an assumed hypothesis. If from this hypothesis we 
reason with correctness, nothing, it is manifest, can be wanting to 
complete the evidence of the result; as this result only asserts a 
necessary connexion between the supposition and the conclusion. 
In the other sciences, admitting that every ambiguity of language 
were removed, and that every step of our deductions were rigor¬ 
ously accurate, our conclusions would still be attended with more 
or less of uncertainty; being ultimately founded on principles 
which may, or may not, correspond exactly with the fact.* 

Hence it appears that it might be possible, by devising a set of 
arbitrary definitions, to form a science which, although conversant 
about moral, political, or physical ideas, should yet be as certain as 
geometry. It is of no moment whether the definitions assumed 
correspond with facts or not, provided they do not express impos¬ 
sibilities, and be not inconsistent with each other. From these 
principles a series of consequences may be deduced by the most 
unexceptionable reasoning; and the results obtained will be per¬ 
fectly analogous to mathematical propositions. The terms true and 
false, cannot be applied to them; at least in the sense in which 
they are applicable to propositions relative to facts. All that can 
be said is, that they are or are not connected with the definitions 
which form the principles of the science; and, therefore, if we 
choose to call our conclusions true in the one case, and false in the 
other, these epithets must be understood merely to refer to their 
connexion with the data, and not to their correspondence with 
things actually existing, or with events which we expect to be re¬ 
alised in future. An example of such a science as that which I have 
now been describing, occurs in what has been called by some 
writers theoretical mechanics; in which, from arbitrary hypotheses 
concerning physical laws, the consequences are traced which would 
follow, if such was really the order of nature. 

In those branches of study which are conversant about moral and 
political propositions, the nearest approach which I can imagine to 
a hypothetical science, analogous to mathematics, is to be found in 
a code of municipal jurisprudence; or rather might be conceived 
to exist in such a code, if systematically carried into execution, 

* This distinction coincides with one which has been very ingeniously illustrated by 
M. Prevost in his philosophical essays. See his remarks on those sciences which have 
for their object absolute truth, considered in contrast with those which are occupied 
only about conditional or hypothetical truths. Mathematics is a science of the latter 
description ; and is therefore called by M. Prevost a science of pure reasoning. In 
what respects my opinion on this subject differs from his, will appear afterwards.— 
Essais de Philosophic, tom. ii. p. 9, et seq. 


362 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


agreeably to certain general or fundamental principles. Whether 
these principles should or should not be founded in justice and 
expediency, it is evidently possible, by reasoning from them conse¬ 
quentially, to create an artificial or conventional body of knowledge, 
more systematical, and, at the same time, more complete in all its 
parts, than, in the present state of our information, any science can 
be rendered, which ultimately appeals to the eternal and immutable 
standards of truth and falsehood, of right and wrong. This con¬ 
sideration seems to me to throw some light on the following very 
curious parallel which Leibnitz has drawn, with what justness I 
presume not to decide, between the works of the Roman civilians 
and those of the Greek geometers. Few writers certainly have 
been so fully qualified as he was to pronounce on the characteristical 
merits of both. 

“ I have often said, that, after the writing of geometricians, there 
exists nothing which, in point of force and of subtilty, can be com¬ 
pared to the works of the Roman lawyers. And, as it would be 
scarcely possible, from mere intrinsic evidence, to distinguish a 
demonstration of Euclid’s from one of Archimedes or of Apollo¬ 
nius (the style of all of them appearing no less uniform than if 
Reason herself was speaking through their organs), so also the 
Roman lawyers all resemble each other like twin-brothers; inso¬ 
much that, from the style alone of any particular opinion or argu¬ 
ment, hardly any conjecture could be formed with respect to the 
author. Nor are the traces of a refined and deeply meditated 
system of natural jurisprudence anywhere to be found more visible, 
or in greater abundance. And, even in those cases where its prin¬ 
ciples are departed from, either in compliance with the language 
consecrated by technical forms, or in consequence of new statutes, 
or of ancient traditions, the conclusions which the assumed hypo¬ 
thesis renders it necessary to incorporate with the eternal dictates 
of right reason, are deduced with the soundest logic, and with an 
ingenuity which excites admiration. Nor are these deviations 
from the law of nature so frequent as is commonly imagined.” 
(Leibnitz, Op. tom. iv. p. 254.) 

I have quoted this passage merely as an illustration of the analogy 
already alluded to, between the systematical unity of mathematical 
science, and that which is conceivable in a system of municipal law. 
How far this unity is exemplified in the Roman code, I leave to be 
determined by more competent judges.* 

As something analogous to the hypothetical or conditional con¬ 
clusions of mathematics may thus be fancied to take place in specu- 

* It is not a little curious that the same code which furnished to this very learned 
and philosophical jurist the subject of the eulogium quoted above, should have been 
lately stigmatised by an English lawyer, eminently distinguished for his acuteness and 
originality, as “ an enormous mass of confusion and inconsistency.” Making all due 
allowances for the exaggerations of Leibnitz, it is difficult to conceive that his opinion 
on a subject which he had so profoundly studied, should be so very widely at variance’ 
with the truth. 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


363 

lations concerning moral or political subjects, and actually does 
take place in theoretical mechanics; so, on the other hand, if a 
mathematician should affirm, of a general property of the circle, that 
it applies to a particular figure described on paper, he would at once 
degrade a geometrical theorem to the level of a fact resting ulti¬ 
mately on the evidence of our imperfect senses. The accuracy of 
his reasoning could never bestow on his proposition that peculiar 
evidence which is properly called mathematical, as long as the fact 
remained uncertain whether all the straight lines drawn from 
the centre to the circumference of the figure were mathematically 
equal. 

These observations lead me to remark a very common miscon¬ 
ception concerning mathematical definitions; which are of a nature 
essentially different from the definitions employed in any of the 
other sciences. It is usual for writers on logic, after taking notice 
of the errors to which we are liable in consequence of the ambiguity 
of words, to appeal to the example of mathematicians, as a proof 
of the infinite advantage of using, in our reasonings, such expres¬ 
sions only as have been carefully defined. Various remarks to this 
purpose occur in the writings both of Mr. Locke and of Dr. Reid. 
[But the example of mathematicians is by no means applicable to 
the sciences in which these eminent philosophers propose that it 
should be followed; and, indeed, if it were copied as a model in any 
other branch of human knowledge, it would lead to errors fully as 
dangerous as any which result from the imperfections of language. 
The real fact is, that it has been copied much more than it ought to 
have been, or than would have been attempted, if the peculiarities 
of mathematical evidence had been attentively considered.] 

That in mathematics there is no such thing as an ambiguous 
word, and that it is to the proper use of definitions we are indebted 
for this advantage, must unquestionably be granted. But this is an 
advantage easily secured, in consequence of the very limited voca¬ 
bulary of mathematicians, and the distinctness of the ideas about 
which their reasonings are employed. The difference, besides, in this 
respect, between mathematics and the other sciences, however great, 
is yet only a difference in degree; and is by no means sufficient to 
account for the essential distinction which every person must per- 
ceive between the irresistible cogency of a mathematical demonstra¬ 
tion, and that of any other process of reasoning. 

From the foregoing considerations it appears, that in mathematics, 
definitions answer two purposes: first, to prevent ambiguities of 
language; and, secondly, to serve as the principles of our reasoning. 
It appears further, that it is to the latter of these circumstances (I 
mean to the employment of hypotheses instead of facts, as the data 
on which we proceed) that the peculiar force of demonstrative evi¬ 
dence is to be ascribed. It is, however, only in the former use of 
definitions, that any parallel can be drawn between mathematics 
and those branches of knowledge which relate to facts; and, there- 


364 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


fore, it is not a fair argument in proof of their general utility, to 
appeal to the unrivalled certainty of mathematical science,—a 
pre-eminence which that science derives from a source altogether 
different, though comprehended under the same name, and which 
she will for ever claim as her own exclusive prerogative.* 

Nor ought it to he forgotten that it is in pure mathematics alone 
that definitions can be attempted with propriety at the outset of 
our investigations. In most other instances, some previous discus¬ 
sion is necessary to show that the definitions which we lay down 
correspond with facts; and, in many cases, the formation of a just 
definition is the end to which our inquiries are directed. It is very 
judiciously observed by Mr. Burke, in his Essay on Taste, that 
" when we define, we are in danger of circumscribing nature within 
the bounds of our own notions, which we often take up by hazard, 
or embrace on trust, or form out of a limited and partial considera¬ 
tion of the object before us, instead of extending our ideas to take 
in all that nature comprehends, according to her manner of com¬ 
bining. We are limited in our inquiry by the strict laws to which 
we have submitted at our setting out.” 

The same author adds, that " a definition may be very exact, and 
yet go but a very little way towards informing us of the nature of 
the thing defined;” and that, “ in the order of things,' a definition, 
let its virtue be what it will, ought rather to follow than to pre¬ 
cede our inquiries, of which it ought to be considered as the 
result.” 

From a want of attention to these circumstances, and from a 
blind imitation of the mathematical arrangement, in speculations 
where facts are involved among the principles of our reasonings, 
numberless errors in the writings of philosophers might be easily 
traced. The subject is of too great extent to be pursued any 
farther here ; but it is well entitled to the examination of all who 
may turn their thoughts to the reformation of logic. That the 
ideas of Aristotle himself, with respect to it, were not very precise, 
must, I think, be granted, if the following statement of his inge¬ 
nious commentator be admitted as correct. 

“ Every general term,” says Dr. Gillies, “ is considered by Aris¬ 
totle as the abridgment of a definition ; and every definition is 
denominated by him a collection, because it is the result always 
of observation and comparison, and often of many observations 
and of many comparisons.” (Gillies’s Aristotle, vol. i. p. 92, second 
edition.) 

These two propositions will be found, upon examination, not 
very consistent with each other. The first, “ That every general 
term is the abridgment of a definition,” applies indeed admirably 

* These two classes of definitions are very generally confounded by logicians; 
among others, by the Abbe de Condillac. See La Logique, ou les premiers developpe- 
mens de l’Art de Penser, chap. vi. [Logic, or the First Development of the Art of 
Thinking.] 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 365 

to mathematics; and touches with singular precision on the very 
circumstance which constitutes, in my opinion, the peculiar cogency 
of mathematical reasoning. But it is to mathematics that it applies 
exclusively. If adopted as a logical maxim in other branches of 
knowledge, it would prove an endless source of sophistry and error. 
—The second proposition, on the other hand, “ That every defini¬ 
tion is the result of observation and comparison, and often of many 
observations and many comparisonshowever applicable to the 
definitions of natural history, and of other sciences which relate to 
facts, cannot in one single instance apply to the definitions of geo¬ 
metry ; inasmuch as these definitions are neither the result of 
observations nor of comparisons, but the hypotheses, or first prin¬ 
ciples, on which the whole science rests. 

If the foregoing account of demonstrative evidence be just, it 
follows, that no chain of reasoning whatever can deserve the name 
of a demonstration (at least in the mathematical sense of that 
word) which is not ultimately resolvable into hypotheses or defini¬ 
tions.* It has been already shown, that this is the case with 
geometry. And it is also manifestly the case with arithmetic, 
another science to which, in common with geometry, we apply the 
word mathematical. The simple arithmetical equations 2x2=4; 
2x3 = 5 , and other elementary propositions of the same sort, are, as 
was formerly observed, mere definitions, (see page 298, et seq.) per¬ 
fectly analogous, in this respect, to those at the beginning of Euclid; 
and it is from a few fundamental principles which are essentially of 
the same description, that all the more complicated results in the 
science are derived. 

To this general conclusion, with respect to the nature of mathe¬ 
matical demonstration, an exception may perhaps he, at first sight, 
apprehended to occur, in our reasonings concerning geometrical 
problems ; all of these reasonings, as is well known, resting ulti¬ 
mately upon a particular class of principles called postulates, 
which are commonly understood to be so very nearly akin to axioms, 
that both might, without impropriety, he comprehended under the 
same name. “ The definition of a postulate,” says the learned and 
ingenious Dr. Hutton, “ will nearly agree also to an axiom, which 
is a self-evident theorem, as a postulate is a self-evident problem.” 
(Mathematical Dictionary, art. Postulate.) The same author, in 

* Although the account given by Locke of what constitutes a demonstration, be 
different from that which I have here proposed, he admits the converse of this doctrine 
as manifest; viz. That if we reason accurately from our own definitions, our conclu¬ 
sions will possess demonstrative evidence ; and “ hence,” he observes with great truth, 
« it comes to pass, that one may often meet with very clear and coherent discourses, 
that amount yet to nothing.” He afterwards remarks, that “ one may make demon¬ 
strations and undoubted propositions in words, and yet thereby advance not one jot in 
the knowledge of the truth of things.” “ Of this sort,” he adds, “ a man may find an 
infinite number of propositions, reasonings, and conclusions, in books of metaphysics, 
school-divinity, and some sort of natural philosophy ; and, after all, know as little ot 
God, spirits, or bodies, as he did before he set out.”—Essay on Human Understand¬ 
ing, book iv. chap. viii. 


PART IT. 


CHAP. IV. 


366 

another part of his work, quotes a remark from Dr. Barrow, that 
“ there is the same. affinity between postulates and problems, as 
between axioms and theorems.” (Ibid. art. Hypothesis.) Dr. 
Wallis, too, appears, from the following passage, to have had a 
decided leaning to this opinion:—“ According to some, the differ¬ 
ence between axioms and postulates is analogous to that between 
theorems and problems; the former expressing truths which are 
self-evident, and from which other propositions may be deduced; 
the latter, operations which may be easily performed, and by the 
help of which more difficult constructions may be effected.” He 
afterwards adds, “ This account of the distinction between postu¬ 
lates and axioms seems not ill adapted to the division of mathe¬ 
matical propositions into problems and theorems. And, indeed, if 
both postulates and axioms were to be comprehended under 
either of these names, the innovation would not, in my opinion, 
afford much ground for censure.” (Wallisii Opera, vol. ii. pp. 
667, 668.) 

[In opposition to these very high authorities, I have no hesitation 
to assert, that it is with the definitions of Euclid, and not with the 
axioms, that the postulates ought to be compared, in respect of their 
logical character and importance;—inasmuch as all the demonstra¬ 
tions in plane geometry are ultimately founded on the former, and 
all the constructions which it recognises as legitimate, may be 
resolved ultimately into the latter.] To this remark it may be 
added, that, according to Euclid’s view of the subject, the problems 
of geometry are not less hypothetical and speculative, (or, to adopt 
the phraseology of some late writers, not less objects of pure reason,) 
than the theorems; the possibility of drawing a mathematical 
straight line, and of describing a mathematical circle, being as¬ 
sumed in the construction of every problem, in a way quite analo¬ 
gous to that in which the enunciation of a theorem assumes the 
existence of straight lines and of circles corresponding to their 
mathematical definitions. The reasoning, therefore, on which the 
solution of a problem rests, is not less demonstrative than that 
which is employed in proof of a theorem. Grant the possibility of 
three operations described in the postulates, and the correctness of 
the solution is as mathematically certain as the truth of any pro¬ 
perty of the triangle or of the circle. The three postulates of 
Euclid are, indeed, nothing more than the definitions of a circle 
and a straight line thrown into a form somewhat different; and a 
similar remark may be extended to the corresponding distribution 
of propositions into theorems and problems. Notwithstanding the 
many conveniences with which this distribution is attended,' it was 
evidently a matter of choice rather than that of necessity; all the 
truths of geometry easily admitting of being moulded into either 
shape, according to the fancy of the mathematician. As to the 
axioms, there cannot be a doubt, whatever opinion may be enter- 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 367 

tained of their utility or of their insignificance, that they stand 
precisely in the same relation to both classes of propositions * 

II. How far it is true that all Mathematical Evidence is resolvable 
into Identical Propositions. —I had occasion to take notice, in the 
first section of the preceding chapter, of a theory with respect to 
the nature of mathematical evidence, very different from that which 
I have been now attempting to explain. According to this theory 
(originally, I believe, proposed by Leibnitz) we are taught, that all 
mathematical evidence ultimately resolves into the perception of 
identity; the innumerable variety of propositions which have been 
discovered, or which remain to be discovered in the science, being 
only diversified expressions of the simple formula, a = a. A writer 
of great eminence, both as a mathematician and a philosopher, has 
lately given his sanction, in the strongest terms, to this doctrine; 
asserting, that all the prodigies performed by the geometrician are 
accomplished by the constant repetition of these words,—the same 
is the same. “ Le geom£tre avance de supposition en supposition. 
Et retournant sa pensee sous mille formes, c’est en repetant sans 
cesse, le m£me est le m£me, qu’il opere tous ses prodiges.” 

As this account of mathematical evidence is quite irreconcilable 
with the scope of the foregoing observations, it is necessary, before 
proceeding farther, to examine its real import and amount; and 
what the circumstances are from which it derives that plausibility 
which it has been so generally supposed to possess. 

That all mathematical evidence resolves ultimately into the per¬ 
ception of identity, has been considered by some as a consequence 
of the commonly received doctrine, which represents the axioms of 
Euclid as the first principles of all our subsequent reasonings in 
geometry. Upon this view of the subject I have nothing to offer 
in addition to what I have already stated. The argument which I 

* In farther illustration of what is said above, on the subject of postulates and of 
problems, I transcribe, with pleasure, a short passage from a learned and interesting 
memoir, just published, by an author intimately and critically conversant with the 
classical remains of Greek geometry. 

« The description of any geometrical line from the data by which it is defined, must 
always be assumed as possible, and is admitted as the legitimate means of a geome¬ 
trical construction : it is therefore properly regarded as a postulate. Thus, the 
description of a straight line and of a circle are the postulates of plane geometry 
assumed by Euclid. The description of the three conic sections, according to the 
definitions of them, must also be regarded as postulates ; and though not formally 
stated like those of Euclid, are in truth admitted as such by Apollonius, and all other 
writers bn this branch of geometry. The same principle must be extended to all 
superior lines. . , , . 

«it is true, however, that the properties of such superior lines may be treated of, 
and the description of them may be assumed in the solution of problems, without an 
actual delineation of them. For it must be observed, that no lines whatever, not even 
the straight line or circle, can be truly represented to the senses according to the strict 
mathematical definitions ; but this by no means affects the theoretical conclusions 
which are logically deduced from such definitions. It is only when geometry is applied 
to practice, either in mensuration, or in the arts connected with geometrical principles, 
that accuracy of delineation becomes important.”—See an Account of the Life and 
Writings of Robert Simson, M.D. By the Rev. William Trail, LL.D. Published by 
G. and W. Nicol, London, 1812. 


368 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


mean to combat at present, is of a more subtile and refined nature ; 
and, at the same time, involves an admixture of important truth, 
which contributes not a little to the specious verisimilitude of the 
conclusion. It is founded on this simple consideration, that the 
geometrical notions of equality and of coincidence are the same; 
and that, even in comparing together spaces of different figures, all 
our conclusions ultimately lean with their whole weight on the 
imaginary application of one triangle to another;—the object of 
which imaginary application is merely to identify the two triangles 
together, in every circumstance connected both with magnitude 
and figure.* 

Of the justness of the assumption on which this argument pro¬ 
ceeds, I do not entertain the slightest doubt. Whoever has the 
curiosity to examine any one theorem in the elements of plane 
geometry, in which different spaces are compared together, will 
easily perceive, that the demonstration, when traced back to its 
first principles, terminates in the fourth proposition of Euclid’s first 
book: a proposition of which the proof rests entirely on a supposed 
application of the one triangle to the other. In the case of equal 
triangles which differ in figure, this expedient of ideal superposition 
cannot be directly and immediately employed to evince their equal¬ 
ity; but the demonstration will nevertheless be found to rest at 
bottom on the same species of evidence. &IT In illustration of this 
doctrine, I shall only appeal to the thirty-seventh proposition of the 
first book, in which it is proved that triangles on the same base, 
and between the same parallels, are equal; a theorem which 
appears, from a very simple construction, to be only a few steps 
removed from the fourth of the same book, in which the supposed 
application of the one triangle to the other, is the only medium of 
comparison from which their equality is inferred. 

In general, it seems to be almost self-evident, that the equality 
of two spaces can be demonstrated only by showing, either that 
the one might be applied to the other, so that their boundaries 
should exactly coincide; or that it is possible, by a geometrical 
construction, to divide them into compartments in such a manner 
that the sum of parts in the one may be proved to be equal to the 
sum of parts in the other, upon the principle of superposition. 

* It was probably with a view to the establishment of this doctrine, that some 
foreign elementary writers have lately given the name of identical triangles to such as 
agree with each other, both in sides, in angles, and in area. The differences which 
may exist between them in respect of place, and of relative position (differences which 
do uot at all enter into the reasonings of the geometer) seem to have been considered 
as of so little account in discriminating them as separate objects of thought, that it has 
been concluded they only form one and the same triangle, in the contemplation of the 
logician. 

This idea is very explicitly stated, more than once, by Aristotle : ttra odv to iroaov kv. 
"Those things are equal whose quantity is the same (Met. iv. c. 16 ;)and still more 
precisely in these remarkable words, ev rovrois rj ktot^s €Vott)s ; “ In mathematical 
quantities, equality is identity.” (Met. x. c. 3.) 

For some remarks on this last passage, see Note dd. 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


369 


To devise the easiest and simplest constructions for attaining this 
end, is the object to which the skill and invention of the geometer 
is chiefly directed. 

Nor is it the geometer alone who reasons upon this principle. 
If you wish to convince a person of plain understanding, who is 
quite unacquainted with mathematics, of the truth of one ot 
Euclid’s theorems, it can only be done by exhibiting to his eye 
operations exactly analogous to those which the geometer presents 
to the understanding. A good example of this occurs in the 
sensible or experimental illustration which is sometimes given of 
the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid’s first book. For this pur¬ 
pose, a card is cut into the form of a right-angled triangle, and 
square pieces of card are adapted to the different sides; after 
which, by a simple and ingenious contrivance, the different squares 
are so dissected, that those of the two sides are made to cover the 
same space with the square of the hypotenuse. In truth, this 
mode of comparison by a superposition, actual or ideal, is the 
only test of equality to which it is possible to appeal; and it is 
from this, as seems from a passage in Proclus to have been the 
opinion of Apollonius, that, in point of logical rigour, the defini¬ 
tion of geometrical equality should have been taken.* The subject 
is discussed at great length and with much acuteness, as well as 
learning, in one of the mathematical lectures of Dr. Barrow; to 
which I must refer those readers who may wish to see it more 
fully illustrated. 

I am strongly inclined to suspect, that most of the writers who 
have maintained that all mathematical evidence resolves ultimately 
into the perception of identity, have had a secret reference in their 
own minds to the doctrine just stated; and that they have imposed 
on themselves, by using the words identity and equality as literally 
synonymous and convertible terms. This does not seem to be at all 
consistent, either in point of expression or of fact, with sound logic. 

* I do not think, however, that it would be fair, on this account, to censure Euclid 
for the arrangement which he has adopted, as he has thereby most ingeniously and 
dexterously contrived to keep out of the view of the student some very puzzling ques¬ 
tions, to which it is not possible to give a satisfactory answer till a considerable pro¬ 
gress has been made in the Elements. When it is stated iu the form of a self-evident 
truth, that magnitudes which coincide, or which exactly fill the same space, are equal 
to one another, the beginner readily yields his assent to the proposition ; and this 
assent, without going any farther, is all that is required in any of the demonstrations 
of the first six books : whereas, if the proposition were converted into a definition, by 
saying, “ Equal magnitudes are those which coincide, or which exactly fill the same 
space;” the question would immediately occur, Are no magnitudes equal, but those 
to which this test of equality can be applied ? Can the relation of equality not subsist 
between magnitudes which differ from each other in figure * In reply to this question, 
it would be necessary to explain the definition, by adding, That those magnitudes like¬ 
wise are said to be equal, which are capable of being divided or dissected m such a 
manner that the parts of the one may severally coincide with the parts of the other 
a conception much too refined and complicated for the generality of students at their 
first outset ; and which, if it were fully and clearly apprehended, would plunge them 
at once into the profound speculation concerning the comparison of rectilinear with 
curvilinear figures. 


370 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


When it is affirmed, for instance, that “ if two straight lines in a 
circle intersect each other, the rectangle contained by the segments 
of the one is equal to the rectangle contained by the segments of 
the othercan it with any propriety be said, that the relation 
between these rectangles may be expressed by the formula a = a? 
Or, to take a case yet stronger, when it is affirmed, that “ the area 
of a circle is equal to that of a triangle having the circumference 
for its base, and the radius for its altitudewould it not be an 
obvious paralogism to infer from this proposition, that the triangle 
and the circle are one and the same thing? In this last instance. 
Dr. Barrow himself has thought it necessary, in order to reconcile 
the language of Archimedes with that of Euclid, to have recourse 
to a scholastic distinction between actual and potential coincidence ; 
and, therefore, if we are to avail ourselves of the principle of 
superposition, in defence of the fashionable theory concerning 
mathematical evidence, we must, I apprehend, introduce a corre¬ 
spondent 'distinction between actual and potential identity.* 

That I may not be accused, however, of misrepresenting the 
opinion which I am anxious to refute, I shall state it in the words 
of an author who has made it the subject of a particular disserta¬ 
tion; and who appears to me to have done as much justice to his 
argument as any of its other defenders. 

“ Omnes mathematicorum propositiones sunt identic®, et repr®- 
sentantur hac formula, a = a. Sunt veritates identic®, sub varia 
forma express®, imo ipsum, quod dicitur contradictionis principium, 
vario modo enunciatum etinvolutum; siquidem omnes hujus generis 
propositiones revera in eo continentur. Secundum nostram autem 
intelligendi facultatem ea est propositionum differentia, quod quae- 
dam longa ratiociniorum serie, alia autem breviore via, ad primum 

* “ Cura demonstravit Archimedes circulum sequari rectangulo triangulo cujus basis 
radio circuli, cathetus peripherise exsequetur, nil ille, siquis propius attendat, aliud 
quicquam quam aream circuli seu polygoni regularis indefinite multa latera habentis, 
iu tot dividi posse minutissima triangula, quse totidem exilissimis dicti trianguli trigonis 
sequentur ; eorum vero triangulorum sequalitas e sola congruentia deraonstratur in 
etementis. Unde consequenter Archimedes circuli cum triangulo (sibi quanturavis 
dissiraili) congruentiam demonstravit. Ita congruentise nihil obstat figurarum dissimi¬ 
litude ; verum seu similes sive dissimiles sint, modo sequales, semper poterunt, semper 
posse debebunt congruere. Igitur octavum axioma vel nullo modo conversum valet, 
aut universaliter converti potest; nullo modo, si quse isthic habetur congruentia de¬ 
signet'actualem congruentiam ; universim, si de potentiali tantum accipiatur.”— Lec- 
tiones Mathematicse, Sect. V. [“ When Archimedes demonstrated that a circle is equal 
to a right-angled triangle, the base of which is equal to the radius, and the altitude 
to the circumference, he meant nothing more, if one considers the subject closely, than 
that the area of a circle, or of a regular polygon having innumerable sides, could be 
divided into so many extremely small triangles which would be equal to as many ex¬ 
tremely small triangles of the given triangle ; but the equality of triangles is demon¬ 
strated in the Elements from agreement alone. Whence, consequently, Archimedes 
demonstrated the agreement of the circle with the triangle, however dissimilar to it. 
So dissimilarity of figure is no obstacle to agreement, but whether similar or dissimilar, 
provided they be equal, they always can, always must agree. Therefore the eighth 

axiom, when converted, cannot at all stand good, or can be universally converted_ 

not at all if the agreement mentioned there means actual agreement universally, if it 
be taken to mean potential agreement merely.”] 


OP MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


371 


omnium principium reducantur, et in illud resolvantur. Sic v. g. 
propositio 2 + 2=4 statim hue cedit 1 + 1 +1 + 1=1+1 + 1 + 1; 
i. e. idem est idem; et proprie loquendo, hoc ^nodo enunciari 
debet.—Si contingat, adesse vel existere quatuor entia, turn exist- 
unt quatuor entia; nam de existentia non agunt geometrse, sed ea 
hypothetice tan turn subin telligitur. Inde summa oritur certitudo 
ratiocinia perspicienti; observat nempe idearum identitatem; et 
haec est evidentia assensum immediate cogens, quam mathematicam 
aut geometricam vocamus. Mathesi tamen sua natura priva non 
est et propria; oritur etenim ex identitatis perceptione, quse locum 
habere potest, etiamsi ideae non repraesentent extensum.”* 

With respect to this passage I have only to remark (and the same 
thing is observable of every other attempt which has been made to 
support the opinion in question), that the author confounds two 
things essentially different;—the nature of the truths which are the 
objects of a science, and the nature of the evidence by which these 
truths are established. .Granting, for the sake of argument, that 
all mathematical propositions may be represented by the formula 
a = a, it would not therefore follow, that every step of the reason¬ 
ing leading to these conclusions, was a proposition of the same 
nature; and that, to feel the full force of a mathematical demon¬ 
stration, it is sufficient to be convinced of this maxim, that every¬ 
thing may be truly predicated of itself; or, in plain English, that 
the same is the same. A paper written in cipher, and the inter¬ 
pretation of that paper by a skilful decipherer, may, in like manner, 
be considered as, to all intents and purposes, one and the same 
thing. They are so, in fact, just as much as one side of an alge¬ 
braical equation is the same thing with the other. But does it 
therefore follow, that the whole evidence upon which the art of 
deciphering proceeds, resolves into the perception of identity? 

It may be fairly questioned, too, whether it can, with strict cor- 

* “ All mathematical propositions are identical, and represented by this formula 
a = a. They are identical truths expressed under various forms, even that 
which is called the principle of contradiction variously enunciated and involved. 
Thence all propositions of this sort are in reality contained in it. But 
according to our way of understanding, the difference of propositions is of this 
nature, that some are reduced to the first principle, and resolved into it, by a 
long train of reasoning, some by a shorter one. Thus for example, the proposition 
2 + 2=4, amounts to this l+l + l-fl = l + l + l + l. That is, the same 
is the same, and in strict propriety ought to be expressed in this way—if it should 
happen that four things exist, or be anywhere, then four things exist, for geometers 
do not treat of existence, that being only understood hypothetically. Therefore the 
highest degree of certainty results to him who examines such arguments, for he ob¬ 
serves the identity of ideas, and this is the evidence immediately forcing our assent, 
which we call mathematics or geometry. However, it is not peculiar and proper to 
mathematical science, for it arises from the perception of identity which can have 
place, although the ideas do not represent extension."—[The above extract (from 
a dissertation printed at Berlin in 1764) has long had a very extensive circulation 
in this country, in consequence of its being quoted by Dr.’ Beattie, in his Essay on 
Truth, (see p. 22], 2nd edit.) As the learned author of the essay has not given the 
slightest intimation of his own opinion on the subject, the doctrine in question has, I 
suspect, been considered as in some measure sanctioned by his authority. It is only 
in this way that I can account for the facility with which it has been admitted by so 
many of our northern logicians.] 


b b 2 


S72 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


rectness, be said even of the simple arithmetical equation 2 + 2— 4, 
that it may be represented by the formula a = a. The one is 
a proposition asserting the equivalence of two different expres¬ 
sions ;—to ascertain which equivalence may, in numberless cases, 
be an object of the highest importance. The other is altogether 
unmeaning and nugatory, and cannot, by any possible supposition, 
admit of the slightest application of a practical nature. What 
opinion then shall we form of the proposition a a, when con¬ 
sidered as the representative of such a formula as the binomial 
theorem of Sir Isaac Newton? When applied to the equation 
2 + 2—4, (which from its extreme simplicity and familiarity is apt 
to be regarded in the light of an axiom,) the paradox does not 
appear to be so manifestly extravagant; but, in the other case, it 
seems quite impossible to annex to it any meaning whatever. 

I should scarcely have been induced to dwell so long on this 
theory of Leibnitz concerning mathematical evidence, if I had not 
observed among some late logicians (particularly among the fol¬ 
lowers of Condillac) a growing disposition to extend it to all the 
different sorts of evidence resulting from the various employments 
of our reasoning powers. Condillac himself states his own opinion 
on this point with the most perfect confidence:—“ L’evidence de 
raison consiste uniquement dans l’identite : c’est ce que nous avons 
demontre. II faut que cette v^rite soit bien simple pour avoir 
echappe a tous les philosophes, quoiqu’ils eussent tant d’inter£t 
a s’assurer de Pevidence, dont ils avoient continuellement le mot 
dans la bouche.” (La Logique, chap, ix.)* 

The demonstration here alluded to is extremely concise; and 
if we grant the two data on which it proceeds, must be universally 
acknowledged to be irresistible. The first is, “ That the evidence 
of every mathematical equation is that of identity the second, 
“ That what are called, in the other sciences, propositions or 
judgments, are, at bottom, precisely of the same nature with equa¬ 
tions.”—But it is proper, on this occasion, to let our author speak 
for himself. 

“ Mais, dira-t-on, c’est ainsi qu’on raisonne en mathematiques, 
oil le raisonnement se fait avec des equations. En sera-t-il de 
meme dans les autres sciences, ou le raisonnement se fait avec 
des propositions ? Je r6ponds, qu’equations, propositions, juge- 
mens, sont au fond la m£me chose, et que par consequent on 
raisonne de la meme maniere dans toutes les sciences.” (Ibid, 
chap. viii.)f 

* “ The evidence of reason consists altogether in identity, as we have demonstrated. 
This truth must be very simple to have escaped the notice of all philosophers, although 
they are so much interested to establish the grounds of the evidence, the name of 
which they have incessantly in their mouths/' 

f “ But it will be said that it is thus that we reason in mathematics, where reason¬ 
ing takes place in equations ; will it be the same in other sciences where reasoning 
takes place by means of propositions 1 I answer, that equations, propositions, judg¬ 
ments, are in reality the same; and that, consequently, we reason in the same manner 
in all the sciences.” 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION’. 


373 

Upon this demonstration I have no comment to offer. The truth 
of the first assumption has been already examined at sufficient 
length ; and the second (which is only Locke’s very erroneous 
account of judgment, stat ed in terms incomparably more exception¬ 
able) is too puerile to admit of refutation. It is melancholy to 
reflect, that a writer who, in his earlier years, had so admirably 
unfolded the mighty influence of language upon our speculative 
conclusions, should have left behind him, in one of his latest publi¬ 
cations, so memorable an illustration of his own favourite doctrine. 

It w r as manifestly with a view to the more complete establishment 
of the same theory, that Condillac undertook a work, which has 
appeared since his death, under the title of La Langue des Calculs; 
and which, we are told by the editors, was only meant as a prelude 
to other labours, more interesting and more difficult. From the 
circumstances which they have stated, it would seem that the inten¬ 
tion of the author was to extend to all the other branches of know¬ 
ledge, inferences similar to those which he has here endeavoured 
to establish with respect to mathematical calculations; and much 
regret is expressed by his friends, that he had not lived to accom¬ 
plish a design of such incalculable importance to human happiness. 
I believe I may safely venture to assert, that it was fortunate for 
his reputation he proceeded no, farther; as the sequel must, from 
the nature of the subject, have afforded, to every competent judge, 
an experimental and palpable proof of the vagueness and fallacious¬ 
ness of those views by which the undertaking was suggested. In 
his posthumous volume, the mathematical precision and perspicuity 
of his details appear to a superficial reader to reflect some part of 
their own light on the general reasonings with which they are 
blended; while, to better judges, these reasonings come recom¬ 
mended with many advantages and with much additional authority, 
from their coincidence with the doctrines of the Leibnitzian school. 

It would probably have been not a little mortifying to this most 
ingenious and respectable philosopher, to have discovered, that, in 
attempting to generalize a very celebrated theory of Leibnitz, he 
had stumbled upon an obsolete conceit, started in this island 
upwards of a century before. “ When a man reasoneth,” says 
Hobbes, “ he does nothing else but conceive a sum total, from 
addition of parcels; or conceive a remainder from subtraction of 
one sum from another, which, if it be done by words, is conceiving 
of the consequence of the names of all the parts to the name of the 
whole; or from the names of the whole and one part, to the name 
of the other part. These operations are not incident to numbers 
only, but to all manner of things that can be added together, and 
taken one out of another. In sum, in what manner soever there is 
place for addition and subtraction, there also is place for reason; and 
where these have no place, there reason has nothing at all to do. 

“ Out of all which we may define what that is which is meant by 
the word reason, when we reckon it amongst the faculties of the 


374 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


mind. For reason, in this sense, is nothing but reckoning (that is, 
adding and subtracting) of the consequences of general names 
agreed upon for the marking and signifying of our thoughts;—I 
say marking them, when we reckon by ourselves; and signifying, 
when we demonstrate or approve our reckonings to other men.” 
(Leviathan, chap, v.) 

Agreeably to this definition, Hobbes has given to the first part 
of his elements of philosophy, the title of Computatio, sive Logica ; 
evidently employing these two words as precisely synonymous. 
From this tract I shall quote a short paragraph, not certainly on 
account of its intrinsic value, but in consequence of the interest 
which it derives from its coincidence with the speculations of some 
of our contemporaries. I transcribe it from the Latin edition, as 
the antiquated English of the author is apt to puzzle readers not 
familiarized to the peculiarities of his philosophical diction. 

“ Per ratigcinationem autem intelligo computationem. Compu- 
tare vero est plurium rerum simul additarum summam colligere, 
vel una re ab alia detracta, cognoscere residuum. Ratiocinari igi- 
tur idem est quod addere et subtrahere, vel si quis adjungat his 
mutiplicare et dividere, non abnuam, cum multiplicatio idem sit 
quod sequalium additio, divisio quod sequalium quoties fieri potest 
subtractio. Recidit itaque ratiocinatio omnis ad duas operationes 
animi, additionem et subtractionem.”* How wonderfully does this 
jargon agree with the assertion of Condillac, that all equations are 
propositions, and all propositions equations! 

These speculations, however, of Condillac and of Hobbes relate 
to reasoning in general; and it is with mathematical reasoning 
alone that we are immediately concerned at present. That the 
peculiar evidence with which this is accompanied is not resolvable 
into the perception of identity, has, I flatter myself, been sufficiently 
proved in the beginning of this article; and the plausible extension 
by Condillac of the very same theory to our reasonings in all the 
different branches of moral science, affords a strong additional pre¬ 
sumption in favour of our conclusion. 

[From this long digression, into which I have been insensibly led 
by the errors of some illustrious foreigners concerning the nature 

* * But by reasoning I mean computation. Now, to compute is to collect the sum 
of many things added together, or, one thing being deducted from another, to ascertain 
the remainder. To reason, therefore, is to add or subtract; or, if any one will add to 
these, to multiply and divide, I do not object, since multiplication is the same as the 
addition of equal quantities, and division the same as the subtraction of equal quan¬ 
tities as often as it can be done. So all reasoning resolves itself into two operations 
of the mind, addition and subtraction.”—The “ Logica” of Hobbes has been lately 
translated into French, under the title of “ Calcul, ou Logique,” by M. Destutt-Tracy. 
It is annexed to the third volume of his “ Elemens d’Ideologie,” where it is honoured 
with the highest eulogies by the ingenious translator. “ L’ouvrage en masse,” he ob- 
serves in one passage, “ merite d’etre regarde comme un produit precieux des medi¬ 
tations de Bacon et de Descartes sur le systeme d’Aristote, et comme le germe des 
progres ulterieures de la science.”—Disc. Prel. p. 117. [The work altogether is worthy 
of being regarded as a valuable result of the meditations of Bacon and Des Cartes on 
the system of Aristotle, and as the germ of subsequent advances of knowledge.] 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


375 


of mathematical demonstration, I now return to a further examina¬ 
tion of the distinction between sciences which rest ultimately on 
facts, and those in which definitions or hypotheses are the sole prin¬ 
ciples of our reasonings.] 

III. Evidence of the Mechanical Philosophy, not to be confounded 
ivith that which is properly called Demonstrative or Mathematical .— 
Opposite Error of some late Writers .—Next to geometry and arith¬ 
metic, in point of evidence and certainty, is that branch of general 
physics which is now called mechanical philosophy:—a science in 
which the progress of discovery has been astonishingly rapid, during 
the course of the last century; and which, in the systematical con¬ 
catenation and filiation of its elementary principles, exhibits every 
day more and more of that logical simplicity and elegance which we 
admire in the works of the Greek mathematicians. It may, I think, 
be fairly questioned, whether, in this department of knowledge, 
the affectation of mathematical method has not been already carried 
to an excess; the essential distinction between mechanical and 
mathematical truths being, in many of the physical systems which 
have lately appeared on the Continent, studiously kept out of the 
reader’s view, by exhibiting both, as nearly as possible, in the same 
form. A variety of circumstances, indeed, conspire to identify in 
the imagination, and, of consequence, to assimilate in the mode of 
their statement, these two very different classes of propositions; 
but as this assimilation, beside its obvious tendency to involve 
experimental facts in metaphysical mystery, is apt occasionally to 
lead to very erroneous logical conclusions, it becomes the more 
necessary, in proportion as it arises from a natural bias, to point 
out the causes in which it has originated, and the limitations with 
which it ought to be understood. 

The following slight remarks will sufficiently explain my general 
ideas on this important article of logic. 

(1.) As the study of the mechanical philosophy is, in a great 
measure, inaccessible to those who have not received a regular 
mathematical education, it commonly happens, that a taste for it is, 
in the first instance, grafted on a previous attachment to the 
researches of pure or abstract mathematics. Hence a natural and 
insensible transference to physical pursuits, of mathematical habits 
of thinking; and hence an almost unavoidable propensity to give 
to the former science that systematical connexion in all its various 
conclusions which, from the nature of its first principles, is essential 
to the latter, but which can never belong to any science which 
has its foundations laid in facts collected from experience and 
observation. 

(2.) Another circumstance which has co-operated powerfully 
with the former in producing the same effect, is that proneness to 
simplification which has misled the mind, more or less, in all its 
researches, and which, in natural philosophy, is peculiarly encou¬ 
raged by those beautiful analogies which are observable among 


PAIIT II. 


CHAP. IV. 


37 6 


different physical phenomena—analogies, at the same time, which, 
however pleasing to the fancy, cannot always be resolved by our 
reason into one general law. In a remarkable analogy, for exam¬ 
ple, which presents itself between the equality of action and re¬ 
action in the collision of bodies, and what obtains in their mutual 
attractions, the coincidence is so perfect as to enable us to com¬ 
prehend all the various facts in the same theorem; and it is difficult 
to resist the temptation which it seems to offer to our ingenuity, 
of attempting to trace it, in both cases, to some common principle. 
Such trials of theoretical skill I would not be understood to censure 
indiscriminately; but, in the present instance, I am fully per¬ 
suaded, that it is at once more unexceptionable in point of sound 
logic and more satisfactory to the learner, to establish the fact, in 
particular cases, by an appeal to experiment; and to state the law 
of action and re-action in the collision of bodies, as well as that 
which regulates the mutual tendencies of bodies towards each 
other, merely as general rules which have been obtained by induc¬ 
tion, and which are found to hold invariably as far as our know¬ 
ledge of nature extends.* 

An additional example may be useful for the illustration of the 
same subject. It is well known to be a general principle in 

mechanics, that when, by means of any machine, two heavy bodies 
counterpoise each other, and are then made to move together, the 

* It is observed by Mr. Robison, in his Elements of Mechanical Philosophy, that 
“ Sir Isaac Newton, in the general scholium on the laws of motion, seems to consider 
the equality of action and re-action as an axiom deduced from the relations of ideas. 
But this,” says Mr. Robison, “seems doubtful. Because a magnet causes the iron to 
approach towards it, it does not appear that we necessarily suppose that iron also at¬ 
tracts the magnet.” In confirmation of this he remarks, that notwithstanding the 
previous conclusions of Wallis, Wren, and Huyghens, about the mutual, equal, and con¬ 
trary action of solid bodies in their collisions, “ Newton himself only presumed that, 
because the sun attracted the planets, these also attracted the sun ; and that he is at 
much pains to point out phenomena to astronomers, by which this may be proved, 
when the art of observation shall be sufficiently perfected.”. Accordingly, Mr. Robi¬ 
son, with great propriety, contents himself with stating this third law of motion, as a 
fact, “ with respect to all bodies on which we can make experiment or observation fit 
for deciding the question.” 

In the very next paragraph, however, he proceeds thus : “ As it is an universal law, 
we cannot rid ourselves of the persuasion that it depends on some general principle 
which influences all the matter in the universe to which observation he subjoins a 
conjecture or hypothesis, concerning the nature of this principle or cause. For an 
outline of his theory I must refer to his own statement. See Elements of Mechanical 
Philosophy, vol. i. pp. 1‘24-126. 

Of the fallaciousness of synthetical reasonings concerning physical phenomena, there 
cannot be a stronger proof, than the diversity of opinion among the most eminent phi¬ 
losophers with respect to the species of evidence on which the third law of motion 
rests. On this point, a direct oppositum may be remarked in the views of Sir Isaac 
Newton, and of his illustrious friend and commentator, Mr. Maclaurin ; the former 
seeming to lean to the supposition, that it is a corollary deducible a priori from abstract 
principles ; while the latter (manifestly considering it as the effect of an arbitrary 
arrangement) strongly recommends it to the attention of those who delight in the in¬ 
vestigation of final causes.—(Account of Newton’s Philosophical Discoveries, book ii. 
chap. 2, sec. 28.) My own idea is, that, in the present state of our knowledge, it is at 
once more safe and more logical, to consider it merely as an experimental truth, with¬ 
out venturing to decide positively on either side of the question. As to the doctrine 
of final causes, it fortunately stands in need of no aid from such dubious speculations. 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


377 

quantities of motion with which one descends, and the other as¬ 
cends perpendicularly, are equal. This equilibrium bears such a 
resemblance to the case of two moving bodies stopping each other, 
w r hen they meet together with equal quantities of motion, that, in 
the opinion of many writers, the cause of an equilibrium in the 
several machines is sufficiently explained, by remarking, “ that a 
body always loses as much motion as it communicates.” Hence it 
is inferred, that when two heavy bodies are so circumstanced, that 
one cannot descend without causing the other to ascend at the 
same time, and with the same quantity of motion, both of these 
bodies must necessarily continue at rest. But this reasoning, how¬ 
ever plausible it may seem to be at first sight, is by no means satis¬ 
factory; for, as Dr. Hamilton has justly observed,* when we say, 
that one body communicates its motion to another, we must sup¬ 
pose the motion to exist, first in the one, and afterwards in the 
other: whereas, in the case of the machine, the ascent of the one 
body cannot, by any conceivable refinement, be ascribed to a com¬ 
munication of motion from the body which is descending at the 
same moment; and, therefore, (admitting the truth of the general 
law which obtains in the collision of bodies,) we might suppose, 
that in the machine, the superior weight of the heavier body 
would overcome the lighter, and cause it to move upwards with 
the same quantity of motion with which itself moves downwards. 
In perusing a pretended demonstration of this sort, a student is 
dissatisfied and puzzled, not from the difficulty of the subject, 
which is obvious to every capacity, but from the illogical and 
inconclusive reasoning to which his assent is required.f 

(3.) To these remarks it may be added, that even when one propo¬ 
sition in natural philosophy is logically deducible from another, it 
may frequently be expedient, in communicating the elements of the 
science, to illustrate and confirm the consequence, as well as the 
principle, by experiment. This I should apprehend to be proper, 
wherever a consequence is inferred from a principle less familiar 
and intelligible than itself; a thing which must occasionally happen 
in physics, from the complete incorporation, if I may use the ex¬ 
pression, which, in modern times, has taken place between physical 
truths, and the discoveries of mathematicians. The necessary effect 

* See Philosophical Essays, by Hugh Hamilton, D.D., Professor of Philosophy in 
the University of Dublin, p. 135 et seq., 3i*d edit. London, 1772. 

-f- The following observation of Dr. Hamilton places this question in its true point 
of view : “ However, as the theorem above mentioned is a very elegant one, it ought 
certainly to be taken notice of in every treatise of mechanics, and may serve as a very 
good index of an equilibrium iu all machines ; but I do not think that we can from 
thence, or from any one general principle, explain the nature and effects of all the 
mechanic powers in a satisfactory manner." 

To the same purpose, it is remarked by Mr. Maclaurin, that “ though it be useful 
and agreeable to observe how uniformly this principle prevails in engines of every sort 
throughout the whole of mechanics, in all cases where an equilibrium takes place ; yet 
that it would not be right to rest the evidence of so important a doctrine upon a proof 
of this kind only."—Account of Newton’s Discoveries, b. ii. c. 3. 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


378 


of this incorporation was, to give to natural philosophy a mathe¬ 
matical form, and to systematize its conclusions, as far as possible, 
agreeably to rules suggested by mathematical method. 

In pure mathematics, where the truths which we investigate are 
all co- existent in point of time, it is universally allowed, that one 
proposition is said to be a consequence of another, only with a 
reference to our established arrangements. Thus all the properties 
of the circle might be as rigorously deduced from any one general 
property of the curve, as from the equality of the radii. But it 
does not therefore follow that all these arrangements would be 
equally convenient ; on the contrary, it is evidently useful, and 
indeed necessary, to lead the mind, as far as the thing is practicable, 
from what is simple to what is more complex. The misfortune is, 
that it seems impossible to carry this rule universally into execution; 
and, accordingly, in the most elegant geometrical treatises which 
have yet appeared, instances occur, in which consequences are de¬ 
duced from principles more complicated than themselves. Such 
inversions, however, of what may justly be regarded as the natural 
order, must always be felt by the author as a subject of regret; and, 
in proportion to their frequency, they detract both from the beauty, 
and from the didactic simplicity of his general design. 

The same thing often happens in the elementary doctrines of 
natural philosophy. A very obvious example occurs in the different 
demonstrations given by writers on mechanics, from the resolution 
of forces, of the fundamental proposition concerning the lever ;— 
demonstrations in which the proposition, even in the simple case 
when the directions of the forces are supposed to be parallel, is 
inferred from a process of reasoning involving one of the most 
refined principles employed in the mechanical philosophy. I do 
not object to this arrangement as illogical; nor do I presume to say 
that it is injudicious.* I would only suggest the propriety, in such 

* In some of these demonstrations, however, there is a logical inconsistency so glaring, 
that I cannot resist the temptation of pointing it out here, as a good instance of that 
undue predilection for mathematical evidence, in the exposition of physical principles, 
which is conspicuous in many elementary treatises. I allude to those demonstrations 
of the property of the lever, in which, after attempting to prove the general theorem, 
on the supposition that the directions of the forces meet in a point, the same conclusion 
is extended to the simple case in which these directions are parallel, by the fiction (for 
it deserves no other name) of conceiving parallel lines to meet at an infinite distance, 
or to form with each other an angle infinitely small. It is strange that such a proof 
should ever have been thought more satisfactory than the direct evidence of our senses. 
How much more reasonable and pleasing to begin with the simpler case, which may be 
easily brought to the test of experiment, and then to deduce from it, by the resolution 
of forces, the general proposition ! Even Dr. Hamilton himself, who has treated of 
the mechanical powers with much ingenuity, seems to have imagined, that by demon¬ 
strating the theorem, in all its cases, from the composition and resolution of forces 
alone, he had brought the whole subject within the compass of pure geometry. It 
could scarcely, however, (one should think,) have escaped him, that every valid de¬ 
monstration of the composition of forces must necessarily assume as a fact, that “ when 
a body is acted upon by a force parallel to a straight line given in position, this force 
has no effect either to accelerate or to retard the progress of the body towards that 
line.” Is not this fact much farther removed from common observation than the 
fundamental property of the lever, which is familiar to every peasant, and even to 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


379 

instances, of confirming and illustrating the conclusion, by an appeal 
to experiment; an appeal which, in natural philosophy, possesses 
an authority equal to that which is generally, but very improperly, 
considered as a mathematical demonstration of physical truths. In 
pure geometry, no reference to the senses can be admitted, but in 
the way of illustration ; and any such reference, in the most trifling 
step of a demonstration, vitiates the whole. But, in natural philo¬ 
sophy, all our reasonings must be grounded on principles for which 
no evidence but that of sense can be obtained ; and the propositions 
which we establish, differ from each other only as they ate deduced 
from such principles immediately, or by the intervention of a mathe¬ 
matical demonstration. An experimental proof, therefore, of any 
particular physical truth, when it can be conveniently obtained, 
although it may not always be the most elegant or the most expe¬ 
dient way of introducing it to the knowledge of the student, is as 
rigorous and as satisfactory as any other; for the intervention 
of a process of mathematical reasoning can never bestow on our 
conclusions a greater degree of certainty than our principles 
possessed.* 

I have been led to enlarge on these topics by that unqualified 
application of mathematical method to physics, which has been 
fashionable for many years past among foreign writers, and which 
seems to have originated chiefly in the commanding influence 
which the genius and learning of Leibnitz have so long maintained 
over the scientific taste of most European nations.f In an account, 

every savage ? And yet the same author objects to the demonstration of Huyghens 
that it depends upon a principle which, he says, ought not to be granted on this 
occasion,—that “ when two equal bodies are placed on the arms of a lever, that 
which is furthest from the fulcrum will preponderate.” 

* Several of the foregoing remarks were suggested by certain peculiarities of opi¬ 
nion relative to the distinct provinces of experimental and of mathematical evidence 
in the study of physics, which were entertained by my learned and excellent friend, 
the late Mr. Robison. Though himself a most enlightened and zealous advocate for 
the doctrine of final causes, he is well known to have formed his scientific taste chiefly 
upon the mechanical philosophers of the Continent, and, in consequence of this cir¬ 
cumstance, to have undervalued experiment, wherever a possibility offered of intro¬ 
ducing mathematical, or even metaphysical reasoning. Of this bias various traces 
occur, both in his Elements of Mechanical Philosophy, and in the valuable articles 
which he furnished to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

*|- The following very extraordinary passage occurs in a letter from Leibnitz to 
Mr. Oldenburg : 

“ Ego id agere constitui, ubi primum otium nactus ero, ut rem omnem mechanicam 
reducam ad puram geometriam ; problemataque circa elateria, et aquas, et pendula, 
et projecta, et solidorum resistentiam, et frictiones, &c. definiam. Quae hactenus 
attigit nemo. Credo autem rem omnem nunc esse in potentate ; ex quo circa regulas 
motuum mihi penitus perfectis demonstrationibus satisfeci; neque quicquam amplius 
in eo genere desidero. *Tota autem res, quod mireris, pendet ex axiomate metaphysico 
pulcherrimo, quod non minoris momenti est circa motum, quam hoc, totum esse majus 
parte, circa magnitudinem.”—(Wallisii Opera, vol. iii. p. 633.) [I have determined, 
as soon as I shall have leisure, to reduce all mechanics to pure geometry, and to 
strictly state the problems concerning impulse, water, pendulums and projectiles, and 
the resistance of solids and friction, which no one has as yet meddled with. But I 
believe that I have the whole affair within my reach, since I have thoroughly satisfied 
myself with irrefragable demonstrations about the laws of motion, nor require any- 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


380 


lately published, of the Life and Writings of Dr. Reid, I have 
taken notice of some other inconveniences resulting from it, still 
more important than the introduction of an unsound logic into the 
elements of natural philosophy; in particular, of the obvious ten¬ 
dency which it has to withdraw the attention from that unity of 
design which it is the noblest employment of philosophy to illus- 


tliing in that branch. But you will be surprised to learn, that the whole matter de¬ 
pends on a very beautiful metaphysical axiom, which is not of less importance as 
regards motion, than the axiom that the whole is greater than a part, is concerning 
magnitude.] 

The beautiful metaphysical axiom here referred to by Leibnitz, is plainly the pi’inci- 
ple of “ the sufficient reason and it is not a little remarkable, that the highest praise 
which he had to bestow upon it was, to compare it to Euclid's axiom, " That the whole 
is greater than its part.” Upon this principle of the sufficient reason, Leibnitz, as is 
well known, conceived that a complete system of physical sience might be built, as he 
thought the whole of mathematical science resolvable into the principles of identity and 
of contradiction. By the first of these principles, it may not be altogether superfluous 
to add, is to be understood the maxim, " Whatever is, is by the second, the maxim, 
that " It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be —two maxims which, 
it is evident, are only different expressions of the same proposition. 

In the remarks made by Locke on the logical inutility of mathematical axioms, and 
on the logical danger of assuming metaphysical axioms as the principles of our reason¬ 
ings in other sciences, I think it highly probable that he had a secret reference to the 
philosophical writings and epistolary correspondence of Leibnitz. This appears to me 
to furnish a key to some of Locke’s observations, the scope of which Dr. Reid professes 
his inability to discover. One sentence, in particular, on which he has animadverted 
with some severity, is, in my opinion, distinctly pointed at the letter to Mr. Oldenburg, 
quoted in the beginning of this note. 

"Mr. Locke farther says,” I borrow Dr. Reid’s own‘statement, "that maxims are 
not of use to help men forward in the advancement of the sciences, or new discoveries 
of yet unknown truths ; that Newton, in the discoveries he has made in his never 
enough to be admired book, has not been assisted by the general maxim, Whatever is, 
is ; or The whole is greater than a part, or the like.” 

As the letter to Oldenburg is dated in 1676, (twelve years before the publication of 
the Essay on Human Understanding,) and as Leibnitz expresses a desire that it may 
be communicated to Mr. Newton, there can scarcely be a doubt that Locke had read 
it ; and it reflects infinite honour on his sagacity, that he seems, at that early period, 
to have foreseen the extensive influence which the errors of this illustrious man were 
so long to maintain over the opinions of the learned world. The truth is, that even 
then he prepared a reply to some reasonings which, at the distance of a century, were 
to mislead, both in physics and in logic, the first philosophers in Europe. 

If these conjectures be well founded, it must be acknowledged that Dr. Reid has not 
only failed in his defence of maxims against Locke’s attack ; but that he has totally 
misapprehended the aim of Locke’s argument. 

" I answer,” says he, in the paragraph immediately following that which was quoted 
above, “ the first of these maxims (Whatever is, is) is an identical proposition, of no 
use in mathematics, or in any other science. The second (that The whole is greater 
than a part) is often used by Newton, and by all mathematicians, and many demon¬ 
strations rest upon it. In general, Newton, as well as all other mathematicians, 
grounds his demonstrations of mathematical propositions upon the axioms laid down 
by Euclid, or upon propositions which have been before demonstrated by help of these 
axioms. 

" But it deserves to be particularly observed, that Newton, intending in the third 
book of his Principia to give a moi’e scientific form to the physical part of astronomy, 
which he had at first composed in a popular form, thought proper to follow the ex¬ 
ample of Euclid, and to lay down first, in what he calls Regulse Philosophandi, and in 
his Phenomena, the first principles which he assumes in his reasoning. 

" Nothing, therefore, could have been more unluckily adduced by Mr. Locke to sup-' 
port his aversion to first principles, than the example of Sir Isaac Newton.”—(Int. 
Powers, Essay VI. Chap. vii. § xv. edit. 8vo. London, 1843. 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 381 

trate, by disguising it under the semblance of an eternal and ne¬ 
cessary order, similar to what the mathematician delights to trace 
among the mutual relations of quantities and figures. The conse¬ 
quence has been, (in too many physical systems,) to level the study 
of nature, in point of moral interest, with the investigations of the 
algebraist; an effect too which has taken place most remarkably, 
where, from the sublimity of the subject, it was least to be ex¬ 
pected, in the application of the mechanical philosophy to the 
phenomena of the heavens. But on this very extensive and im¬ 
portant topic I must not enter at present. 

In the opposite extreme to the error which I have now been 
endeavouring to correct, is a paradox which was broached, about 
twenty years ago, by the late ingenious Dr. Beddoes ; and which 
has since been adopted by some writers whose names are better 
entitled, on a question of this sort, to give weight to their opinions.* 
By the partisans of this new doctrine it seems to be imagined that, 
so far from physics being a branch of mathematics, mathematics, 
and more particularly geometry, is, in feality, only a branch of 
physics. “ The mathematical sciences,” says Dr. Beddoes, “ are 
sciences of experiment and observation, founded solely on the 
induction of particular facts ; as much so as mechanics, astronomy, 
optics, or chemistry. In the kind of evidence there is no differ¬ 
ence; for it originates from perception in all these cases alike ; 
but mathematical experiments are more simple, and more perfectly 
within the grasp of our senses, and our perceptions of mathematical 
objects are clearer.”! 

A doctrine essentially the same, though expressed in terms not 
quite so revolting, has been lately sanctioned by Mr. Leslie : and 
it is to his view of the argument that I mean to confine my atten¬ 
tion at present. “ The whole structure of geometry,” he remarks, 
“ is grounded on the simple comparison of triangles; and all the 
fundamental theorems which relate to this comparison derive their 
evidence from the mere superposition of the triangles themselves ; 
a mode of proof which, in reality, is nothing but an ultimate 
appeal, though of the easiest and most familiar kind, to external 

* I allude here more particularly to my learned friend, Mr. Leslie, whose high and 
justly merited reputation, both as a mathematician and an experimentalist, renders it 
indispensably necessary for me to take notice of some fundamental logical mistakes 
which he appears to me to have committed in the course of those ingenious excursions, 
in which he occasionally indulges himself, beyond the strict limits of his favourite 
studies. 

f Into this train of thinking, Dr. Beddoes informs us, he was first led by Mr. Horne 
Tooke’s speculations concerning language. In whatever study you are engaged, to 
leave difficulties behind is distressing ; and when these difficulties occur at your very 
entrance upon a science professing to be so clear and certain as geometry, your feel¬ 
ings become still more uncomfortable ; and you are dissatisfied with your own powei’s 
of comprehension. I therefore think it due to the author of EIIEA IITEPOENTA, 
to acknowledge my obligations to him for relieving me from this sort of disti’ess. For 
although I had often made the attempt, I could never solve certain difficulties in 
Euclid, till my reflections were revived and assisted by Mr. Tooke's discoveries.”—See 
Observations on the Nature of Demonstrative Evidence, London, 1793, pp. 5 and 15. 


382 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


observation.”* And, in another passage: “ Geometry, like the 
other sciences which are not concerned about the operations of 
mind, rests ultimately on external observations. But those ultimate 
facts are so few, so distinct and obvious, that the subsequent train 
of reasoning is safely pursued to unlimited extent, without ever 
appealing again to the evidence of the senses.” (Elements of 
Geometry and of Geometrical Analysis, p. 453.) 

[Before proceeding to make any remarks on this theory, it is 
proper to premise, that it involves two separate considerations, 
which it is of material consequence to distinguish from each other. 
The first is, that extension and figure, the subjects of geometry, are 
qualities of body which are made known to us by our external 
senses alone, and which actually fall under the consideration of the 
natural philosopher, as well as of the mathematician. The second, 
that the whole fabric of geometrical science rests on the comparison 
of triangles, in forming which comparison we are ultimately 
obliged to appeal (in the same manner as in establishing the first 
principles of physics) to 5, sensible and experimental proof. 

(1.) In answer to the first of these allegations, it might perhaps 
be sufficient to observe, that in order to identify two sciences, it is 
not enough to state, that they are both conversant about the same 
objects ; it is necessary farther to show, that, in both cases, these 
objects are considered in the same point of view, and give employ¬ 
ment to the same faculties of the mind. The poet, the painter, the 
gardener, and the botanist, are all occupied in various degrees and 
modes, with the study of the vegetable kingdom ; yet who has ever 

* Elements of Geometry and of Geometrical Analysis, &c. By Mr. Leslie. Edin¬ 
burgh, 1809. The assertion that the whole structure of geometry is founded on the 
comparison of triangles, is expressed in terms too unqualified. D’Alembert has men¬ 
tioned another principle, as not less fundamental, the measurement of angles by circular 
arches. “ Les propositions fondamentales de g£ometrie peuvent etre reduites a deux ; 
la mesure des angles par les arcs de cercle, et la principe de la superposition.” (Ele- 
mens de Philosophie, art. Geometrie.) [The fundamental principles of geometry may 
be resolved into two; the measure of angles by the arcs of circles, and the principle of 
superposition.] The same writer, however, justly observes, in another part of his 
w orks, that the measure of angles by circular arches, is itself dependent on the principle 
of superposition; and that, consequently, however extensive and important in its appli¬ 
cation, it is entitled only to rank with what he calls principles of a second order. 

“ La mesure des angles par les arcs de cercle decrit de leur sommet, est elle-meme 
dependante du principe de la superposition. Car quand on dit que la mesure d’un 
angle est l’arc circulaire decrit de son sommet, on veut dire que si deux angles sont 
egaux, les angles, decrits de leur sommet a meme rayon, seront egaux ; verite qui se 
demontre par le principe de la superposition, comme tout geometre tant soit peu initie 
dans cette science le sentira facilement.”—Eclaircissemens sur les Elemens de Philo¬ 
sophie, sec. iv. [The measure of angles by the arcs of circles, described from their 
vertices, is itself dependent on the principle of superposition ; for when we say that 
the measure of an angle is the circular arc described from its vertex, we mean to say 
that if two angles be equal, the arc described with the same radius from their vertices 
will be equal—a truth which is demonstrated by superposition, as all geometers a little 
initiated in that science will readily perceive.—Illusti*ations of the Elements of Philo¬ 
sophy.] 

Instead therefore, of saying that the whole structure of geometry is grounded on the 
comparison of triangles, it would be more correct to say, that it is grounded on the 
principle of superposition. 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 383 

thought of confounding their several pursuits under one common 
name ? The natural historian, the civil historian, the moralist, the 
logician, the dramatist, and the statesman, are all engaged in the 
study of man,, and of the principles of human nature ; yet how 
widely discriminated are these various departments of science and 
of art! how different are the kinds of evidence on which they 
respectively rest! how different the intellectual habits which they 
have a tendency to form ! Indeed, if this mode of generalization 
were to be admitted as legitimate, it would lead us to blend all the 
objects of science into one and the same mass; inasmuch as it is 
by the same impressions on our external senses, that our intellec¬ 
tual faculties are, in the first instance, roused to action, and all the 
first elements of our knowledge unfolded. 

In the instance, however, before us, there is a very remarkable 
specialty, or rather singularity, which renders the attempt to iden¬ 
tify the objects of geometrical and of physical science, incomparably 
more illogical than it would be to classify poetry with botany, or 
the natural history of man with the political history of nations. 
This specialty arises from certain peculiarities in the metaphysical 
nature of those sensible qualities which fall under the consideration 
of the geometer ; and which led me, in a different work, to distin¬ 
guish them from other sensible qualities (both primary and secon¬ 
dary), by bestowing on them the title of mathematical affections of 
matter. (Philosophical Essays, pp. 94, 95.) Of these mathematical 
affections (magnitude and figure), our first notions are, no doubt, 
derived (as well as of hardness, softness, roughness, and smoothness) 
from the exercise of our external senses; but it is equally certain, 
that when the notions of magnitude and figure have once been 
acquired, the mind is immediately led to consider them as attributes 
of space no less than of body; and (abstracting them entirely from 
the other sensible qualities perceived in conjunction with them), 
becomes impressed with an irresistible conviction that their exist¬ 
ence is necessary and eternal, and that it would remain unchanged 
if all the bodies in the universe were annihilated. It is not our 
business here to inquire into the origin and grounds of this convic¬ 
tion. It is with the fact alone that we are concerned at present; 
and this I conceive to be one of the most obviously incontrovertible 
which the circle of our knowledge embraces. Let those explain it 
as they best can, who are of opinion, that all the judgments of the 
human understanding rest ultimately on observation and experience. 

Nor is this the only case in which the mind forms conclusions 
concerning space, to which those of the natural philosopher do not 
bear the remotest analogy. Is it from experience we learn that 
space is infinite ? or, to express myself in more unexceptionable 
terms, that no limits can be assigned to its immensity ? Here is a 
fact, extending not only beyond the reach-of our personal observa¬ 
tion, but beyond the observation of all created beings; and a fact 


PAT5T II. 


CHAP. IV. 


3*4 


on which we pronounce with no less confidence, when in imagina¬ 
tion we transport ourselves to the utmost verge of the material uni¬ 
verse, than when we confine our thoughts to those regions of the 
globe which have been explored by travellers. How unlike those 
general laws which we investigate in physics, and which, how far 
soever we may find them to reach, may still, for anything we are able 
to discover to the contrary, he only contingent, local, and temporary. 

It must indeed be owned, with respect to the conclusions hitherto 
mentioned on the subject of space, that they are rather of a 
metaphysical than of a mathematical nature ; but they are not, on 
that account, the less applicable to our purpose; for if the theory 
of Beddoes had any foundation, it would lead us to identify with 
physics the former of these sciences as well as the latter; at least, 
all that part of the former which is employed about space, or exten¬ 
sion,—a favourite object of metaphysical as well as of mathematical 
speculation. The truth, however, is, that some of our metaphysi¬ 
cal conclusions concerning space are more nearly allied to geome¬ 
trical theorems than we might be disposed at first to apprehend; 
being involved or implied in the most simple and fundamental 
propositions which occur in Euclid’s Elements. When it is as¬ 
serted, for example, that “ if one straight line falls on two other 
straight lines, so as to make the two interior angles on the same 
side together equal to two right angles, these two straight lines, 
though indefinitely produced, will never meet—is not the bound¬ 
less immensity of space tacitly assumed as a thing unquestionable ? 
And is not a universal affirmation made with respect to a fact which 
experience is equally incompetent to disprove or to confirm ? In 
like manner, when it is said, that “ triangles on the same base, and 
between the same parallels are equal,” do we feel ourselves the less 
ready to give our assent to the demonstration, if it should be sup¬ 
posed, that the one triangle is confined within the limits of the 
paper before us, and that the other, standing on the same base, has 
its vertex placed beyond the sphere of the fixed stars ? In various 
instances, we are led, with a force equally imperious, to acquiesce 
in conclusions, which not only admit of no illustration or proof 
from the perceptions of sense, but which, at first sight, are apt to 
stagger and confound the faculty of imagination. It is sufficient 
to mention, as examples of this, the relation between the hyperbola 
and its asymptotes; and the still more obvious truth of the infinite 
divisibility of extensioji. What analogy is there between such 
propositions as these, and that which announces, that the mercury 
in the Torricellian tube will fall, if carried up to the top of a 
mountain; or that the vibrations of a pendulum of a given length 
will be performed in the same time, while it remains in the same 
latitude ? Were there, in reality, that analogy between mathe¬ 
matical and physical propositions, which Beddoes and his followers 
have fancied, the equality of the square of the hypotenuse of a 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


385 

right-angled triangle to the squares described on the two other 
sides, and the proportion of 1 , 2 , 3 , between the cone and its cir¬ 
cumscribed hemisphere and cylinder, might, with fully as great 
propriety, be considered in the light of physical phenomena,, as of 
geometrical theorems: Nor would it have been at all inconsistent 
with the logical upity of his work, if Mr. Leslie had annexed to 
his Elements of Geometry a scholium concerning the final causes 
of circles and of straight lines, similar to that wdiich, with such 
sublime effect, closes the Principia of Sir Isaac Newton.* 

(2.) It yet remains for me to say a few words upon that super¬ 
position ot triangles which is the groundwork of all our geometrical 
reasonings concerning the relations which different spaces bear to 
one another in respect of magnitude. And here I must take the 
liberty to remark, in the first place, that the fact in question has 
been stated in terms much too loose and incorrect for a logical 
argument. When it is said, that “ all the fundamental theorems 
which relate to the comparison of triangles, derive their evidence 
from the mere superposition of the triangles themselves,” it seems 
difficult, or rather impossible, to annex to the adjective mere, an 

* In the course of my own experience, I have met with one person of no common 
ingenuity, who seemed seriously disposed to consider the truths of geometry very nearly 
in this light. The person I allude to was James Ferguson, author of the justly popular 
works on Astronomy and Mechanics. In the year 1768, he paid a visit to Edinburgh, 
when I had not only an opportunity of attending his public course of lectures, but of 
frequently enjoying, in private, the pleasure of his very interesting conversation. I 
remember distinctly to have heard him say, that he had more than once attempted to 
study the Elements of Euclid; but found himself quite unable to enter into that species 
of reasoning. The second proposition of the first book, he mentioned particularly as 
one of his stumbling-blocks at the very outset;—the circuitous process by which Euclid 
sets about an operation which never could puzzle, for a single moment, any man who 
had seen a pair of compasses, appearing to him altogether capricious and ludicrous. 
He added, at the same time, that as there were various geometrical theorems of which 
he had daily occasion to make use, he had satisfied himself of their truth, either by 
means of his compasses and scale, or by some mechanical contrivances of his own inven¬ 
tion. Of one of these I have still a perfect recollection ;—his mechanical or experi¬ 
mental demonstration of the 47th proposition of Euclid’s first book, by cutting a cai’dso 
as to afford an ocular proof that the squares of the two sides actually filled the same 
space with the square of the hypotenuse. 

To those who reflect on the disadvantages under which Mr. Ferguson had laboured 
in point of education, and on the early and exclusive hold which experimental science 
had taken of his mind, it will not perhaps seem altogether unaccountable, that the 
refined and scrupulous logic of Euclid should have struck him as tedious, and even 
unsatisfactory, in comparison of that more summary and palpable evidence on which 
his judgment was accustomed to rest. Considering, however, the great number of 
years which have elapsed since this conversation took place, I should have hesitated 
about recording, solely on my own testimony, a fact so singular with respect to so 
distinguished a man, if I had not lately found, from Dr. Hutton’s Mathematical Dic¬ 
tionary, that he also had heard from Mr. Ferguson’s mouth, the most important of 
those particulars which I have now stated ; and of which my own recollection is 
probably the more lively and circumstantial, iu consequence of the very early period 
of my life when they fell under my notice. 

u Mr. Ferguson’s general mathematical knowledge,” says Dr. Hutton, “ was little or 
nothing. Of algebra, he understood little more than the notation ; and he has often told 
me he could never demonstrate one proposition in Euclid’s Elements; his constant 
method being to satisfy himself, as to the truth of any problem, with a measurement by 
scale and compasses.”—Hutton’s Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary, article 
Ferguson. 


c c 


PART II. 


CHAP. IV. 


386 


idea at all different from what would be conveyed, if the word 
actual were to he substituted in its place; more especially, when we 
attend to the assertion which immediately follows, that “this mode 
of proof is, in reality, nothing but an ultimate appeal, though of the 
easiest and most familiar kind, to external observation.” But if this 
be, in truth, the sense in which we are to interpret the state¬ 
ment quoted above, (and I cannot conceive any other interpretation 
of which it admits,) it must appear obvious, upon the slightest 
reflection, that the statement proceeds upon a total misapprehension 
of the principle of superposition; inasmuch as it is not to an actual 
or mere superposition, but to an imaginary or ideal one, that any 
appeal is ever made by the geometer. Between these two modes 
of proof the difference is not only wide, but radical and essential. 
The one would, indeed, level geometry with physics, in point of 
evidence, by building the whole of its reasonings on a fact ascer¬ 
tained by mechanical measurement: the other is addressed to the 
understanding, and to the understanding alone, and is as rigorously 
conclusive as it is possible for demonstration to be.* 

* The same remark was, more than fifty years ago, made by D’Alembert, in reply to 
some mathematicians on the Continent, who, it would appear, had then adopted a para¬ 
dox very nearly approaching to that which I am now combating. “ Le principe de la 
superposition n’est point, comme l’ont pretendu plusieurs g£ometres, uue methode de 
demontrer peu exacte et purement mechanique. La superposition, telle que les mathe- 
maticiens la con£oivent, ne consiste pas a appliquer grossierement une figure sur une 
autre, pour juger par les yeux de leur egalite ou de leur diffei’ence, comme un ouvrier 
applique son pie sur une ligne pour la mesurer ; elle consiste a imaginer une figure 
transportee sur une autre, et a conclure de Pegalite supposee de certaines parties de 
deux figui’es, la coincidence de ces parties entr’elles, et de leur coincidence la coinci¬ 
dence du reste : d’ou resulte l’egalite et la similitude parfaites des figures entieres.”— 
[The principle of superposition is not, as several geometers have maintained, a mode of 
demonstration inexact, and altogether mechanical. Superposition, such as mathema¬ 
ticians regard it, consists not in applying coarsely one figure over another to judge by 
the eye of their equality, or their difference, as a mechanic applies his rule to a timber 
to measure it; it consists in imagining one figure placed on another, and in concluding 
from the supposed equality of certain parts of the two figures, the mutual coincidence of 
these parts, and from their coincidence, the coincidence of the others, from whence 
result the equality and similitude of the figures altogether.] 

About a century before the time when D’Alembert wrote these observations, a 
similar view of the subject was taken by Dr. Barrow ; a writer who, like D’Alembert, 
added to the skill and originality of an inventive mathematician, the most refined, and, 
at the same time, the justest ideas concerning the theory of those intellectual processes 
which are subservient to mathematical reasoning.—“ Unde merito vir acutissimus 
Willebrordus Snellius luculentissimum appellat geometri® supellectilis instrumentuin 
lianc ipsam ecpap/xocriv. Earn igitur in demonstrationibus mathematicis qui fastidiunt et 
respuunt, ut mechanic® crassitudinis ac avrovpyias aliquid redolentem, ipsissiraam 
geometri® basiin labefactare student ; ast imprudenter et frustra. Nam ecpap/iocrtv 
geometr® suam non manu sed mente peragunt, non oculi, sensu, sed animi judicio 
sestimant. Supponunt (id quod nulla manus praestare, nullus sensus discernere valet) 
accuratam et perfectam congruentiam, ex eaque supposita justas et logicas eliciunt 
consequentias. Nullus hie regul® circini, vel norm® usus, nullus bracliiorum labor, 
aut laterum contentio, rationis totum opus, artificium et machinatio est; nil mechani- 
cam sapiens avrovpyiau exigitur; nil inquara, mechanicum, nisi quatenus omnis 
magnitudo sit aliquo modo materi® involuta, sensibus, exposita, visibilis et palpabilis, 
sic ut quod mens intelligi jubet, id manus quadantenus exequi possit, et contempla- 
tionem praxis utcunque conetur ®mulari. Q,u® tamen imitatio geometric® demonstra- 
tionis robur ac dignitatem nedum non infirmat aut deprimit, at validius constabilit, et 
atollit altius,” &c.—Lectiones Mathematic®, Lect. III. [Whence, properly, that very 


OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. 


387 

That the reasoning employed by Euclid in proof of the fourth 
proposition of his first book is completely demonstrative, will be 
readily granted by those who compare its different steps with the 
conclusions to which we were formerly led, when treating of the 
nature of mathematical demonstration. In none of these steps is 
any appeal made to facts resting on the evidence of sense, nor in¬ 
deed to any facts whatever. The constant appeal is to the defi¬ 
nition of equality.* “ Let the triangle A B C,” says Euclid, “be 
applied to the triangle DEE; the point A to the point D, and the 
straight line A B to the straight line DE; the point B will coin¬ 
cide with the point E, because A B is equal to DE. And A B 
coinciding with DE, AC will coincide with D F, because the angle 
B A C is equal to the angle E D F.” A similar remark will be 
found to apply to every remaining step of the reasoning; and, 
therefore, this reasoning possesses the peculiar characteristic which 
distinguishes mathematical evidence from that of all the other 
sciences,—that it rests wholly on hypotheses and definitions, and in 
no respect upon any statement of facts, true or false. The ideas, 
indeed, of extension, of a triangle, and of equality, presuppose the 
exercise of our senses. Nay, the very idea of superposition involves 
that of motion, and consequently (as the parts of space are immov¬ 
able) of a material triangle. But where is there anything analo¬ 
gous in all this to those sensible facts which are the principles of 
our reasoning in physics; and which, according as they have been 
accurately or inaccurately ascertained, determine the accuracy or 
inaccuracy of our conclusions? The material triangle itself, as con¬ 
ceived by the mathematician, is the object, not of sense, but of 
intellect. It is not an actual measure, liable to expansion or con¬ 
traction, from the influence of heat or of cold; nor does it require, 
in the ideal use which is made of it by the student, the slightest 
address of hand or nicety of eye. Even in explaining this demon¬ 
stration, for the first time, to a pupil, how slender soever his capa- 

acute man, Willebrod Snell, calls this very superposition a most brilliant instrument 
among the implements of geometry. Those, therefore, who despise and reject it in 
mathematical demonstrations, as savouring something of mechanical coarseness, endea¬ 
vour to sap the very base of geometry, though injudiciously and fruitlessly. For 
geometers practise this superposition, not by their hand, but their mind, and judge of it 
not by the sense of sight, but by the judgment of intellect: they suppose that which no 
hand can effect, no sight discern, an accurate and perfect coincidence, and from sup¬ 
posing that, derive just and logical consequences. There is no application here of 
compasses, of the rule, or of the square, except that all magnitude is somehow or 
other entangled with matter expressed through means of the senses, either visible 
or tangible, so that what the mind requires to be understood, that the hand, to a certain 
extent, can perform, and practice attempts somehow to emulate thought. Which 
mutation of geometrical demonstration does not diminish its dignity and force, but 
rather strengthens and exalts it.] 

* It was before observed (see p. 3fi9,) that Euclid’s eighth axiom (magnitudes which 
coincide with each other are equal) ought, in point of logical rigour, to have been 
stated in the form of a definition. In our present argument, however, it is not of 
material consequence whether this criticism be adopted or not. Whether we consider 
the proposition in question in the light of an axiom or of a definition, it is equally 
evident that it does not express a fact ascertained by observation or by experiment. 

c c 2 


PART IT. 


CHAP. IV. 


388 


city might be, I do not believe that any teacher ever thought of 
illustrating its meaning by the actual application of the one triangle 
to the other. No teacher, at least, would do so, who had formed 
correct notions of the nature of mathematical science. 

If the justness of these remarks be admitted, the demonstration 
in question must be allowed to be as well entitled to the name, as 
any other which the mathematician can produce ; for as our conclu¬ 
sions relative to the properties of the circle, considered in the light 
of hypothetical theorems, are not the less rigorously and necessarily 
true, that no material circle may anywhere exist corresponding 
exactly to the definition of that figure, so the proof given by Euclid 
of the fourth proposition would not be the less demonstrative, 
although our senses were incomparably less acute than they are, 
and although no material triangle continued of the same magnitude 
for a single instant. Indeed, when we have once acquired the ideas 
of equality and of a common measure, our mathematical conclusions 
would not be in the least affected, if all the bodies in the universe 
should vanish into nothing. 

To many of my readers, I am perfectly aware, the foregoing 
remarks will he apt to appear tedious and superfluous. My only 
apology for the length to which they have extended is, my respect 
for the talents and learning of some of those writers who have lent 
the sanction of their authority to the logical errors which I have 
been endeavouring to correct; and the obvious inconsistency of 
these conclusions with the doctrine concerning the characteristics 
of mathematical or demonstrative evidence, which it was the chief 
object of this section to establish.* 

* This doctrine is concisely and clearly stated by a writer whose acute and original, 
though very eccentric genius, seldom fails to redeem his wildest paradoxes by the new 
lights which he strikes out in defending them. “ Demonstratio est syllogismus vel 
syllogismorum series a nominum definitionibus usque ad conclusionem ultimam 
derivata.”—Computatio sive Logica, cap. 6. 

It will not, I trust, be inferred, from my having adopted, in the words of Hobbes, 
this detached proposition, that I am disposed to sanction any one of those conclusions 
which have been commonly supposed to be connected with it, in the mind of the 
author : I say supposed, because I am by no means satisfied, notwithstanding the loose 
and unguarded manner in which he has stated some of his logical opinions, that justice 
has been done to his views and motives in -this part of his works. My own notions on 
the subject of evidence in general, will be sufficiently unfolded in the progress of my 
speculations. In the meantime, to prevent the possibility of any misapprehension of 
my meaning, I think it proper once more to remark, that the definition of Hobbes, 
quoted above, is to be understood, according to my interpretation of it, as applying 
solely to the word demonstration in pure mathematics. The extension of the same 
term by Dr. Clarke and others, to reasonings which have for their object* not condi¬ 
tional or hypothetical, but absolute truth, appears to me to have been attended with 
many serious inconveniences, which these excellent authors did not foresee. Of the 
demonstrations with which Aristotle has attempted to fortify his syllogistic rules, I 
shall afterwards have occasion to examine the validity. 

The charge of unlimited scepticism brought against Hobbes, has in my opinion, been 
occasioned, partly by his neglecting to draw the line between absolute and hypothetical 
truth, and partly by his applying the word demonstration to our reasonings in other 
sciences as well as in mathematics. To these causes may perhaps be added, the offence 
which his logical writings must have given to the Realists of his time. 

It is not, however, to Realists alone that the charge has been confined. Leibnitz 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 389 


CHAPTER V. 


OF OUR REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT 
TRUTHS. 

I. Ncmtow Field of Demonstrative Evidence.—Of Demonstrative 
Evidence, when combined with that of Sense, as in Practical Geome¬ 
try ; and with those of Sense and of Induction, as in the Mechanical 
Philosophy.—Remarks on a Fundamental Law of Belief, involved in 
all our Reasonings concerning Contingent Truths. —If the account 
which has been given of the nature of demonstrative evidence be 
admitted, the province over which it extends must be limited 
almost entirely to the objects of pure mathematics. A science 
perfectly analogous to this, in point of evidence, may indeed be 
conceived, as I have already remarked, to consist of a series of 
propositions relating to moral, t£> political, or to physical subjects; 
but as it could answer no other purpose than to display the in¬ 
genuity of the inventor, hardly anything of the kind has been 
hitherto attempted. The only exception which I can think of, 
occurs in the speculations formerly mentioned under the title of 
theoretical mechanics. 

But, if the field of mathematical demonstration be limited en¬ 
tirely to hypothetical or conditional truths, whence, it may be asked, 
arises the extensive and the various utility of mathematical know¬ 
ledge in our physical researches, and in the arts of life ? The answer, 
I apprehend, is to be found in certain peculiarities of those objects 
to which the suppositions of the mathematician are confined; in 
consequence of which peculiarities, real combinations of circum¬ 
stances may fall under the examination of our senses, approximating 
far more nearly to what his definitions describe, than is to be ex¬ 
pected in any other theoretical process of the human mind. Hence 
a corresponding coincidence between his abstract conclusions and 
those facts in practical geometry and in physics which they help 
him to ascertain. 

For the more complete illustration of this subject, it may be 
observed, in the first place, that although the peculiar force of that 
reasoning which is properly called mathematical, depends on the 
circumstance of its principles being hypothetical, yet if, in any 
instance, the supposition could be ascertained as actually existing, 
the conclusion might, with the very same certainty, be applied. If 


himself has given some countenance to it, in a dissertation prefixed to a work of Marius 
Nizolius ; and Brucker, in referring to this dissertation, has aggravated not a little the 
censure of Hobbes, which it seems to contain. “ Quin si illustrem Leibnitziuoi 
audimus, Hobbesius quoque inter nominates referendus est, earn ob causam, quod ipso 
Occamo nominalior, rerum veritatem dicat in nominibus consistere, ac, quod majus est, 
pendere ab arbitrio liumano.”—Histor. Pliilosoph. de Ideis, p. 209. Augustse m e- 
licorum, 1723. [Indeed, if we be of Leibnitz’s opinion, Hobbes is to be considered 
a Nominalist, because that, still more a Nominalist than Occam, he maintains that the 
truth of things lies in words, and still farther depends on human will. History 
of Philosophy, Vienna, 1723.] 


390 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


I were satisfied, for example, that in a particular circle drawn on 
paper, all the radii were exactly equal, every property which Euclid 
has demonstrated of that curve might be confidently affirmed to 
belong to this diagram. As the thing, however, here supposed is 
rendered impossible by the imperfection of our senses, the truths 
of geometry can never, in their practical applications, possess de¬ 
monstrative evidence; but only that kind of evidence which our 
organs of perception enable us to obtain. 

But, although in the practical applications of mathematics the 
evidence of our conclusions differs essentially from that which be¬ 
longs to the truths investigated in the theory, it does not therefore 
follow that these conclusions are the less important. In proportion 
to the accuracy of our data will be that of all our subsequent de¬ 
ductions ; and it fortunately happens that the same imperfections 
of sense which limit what is physically attainable in the former, 
limit also, to the very same extent* what is practically useful in the 
latter. The astonishing precision which the mechanical ingenuity 
of modern times has given to mathematical instruments, has, in fact, 
communicated a nicety to the results of practical geometry, beyond 
the ordinary demands of human life, and far beyond the most san¬ 
guine anticipations of our forefathers.* 

This remarkable, and indeed singular coincidence of propositions 
purely hypothetical, with facts which fall under the examination of 
our senses, is owing, as I already hinted, to the peculiar nature of 
the objects about which mathematics is conversant, and to the op¬ 
portunity which we have (in consequence of that mensurability— 
see Note e e —which belongs to all of them) of adjusting, with a 
degree of accuracy approximating nearly to the truth, the data 
from which we are to reason in our practical operations, to those 
which are assumed in our theory. The only affections of matter 
which these objects comprehend are extension and figure, affections 

* See a very interesting and able article, in the fifth volume of the Edinburgh 
Review, on Colonel Mudge’s account of the operations carried on for accomplishing a 
trigonometrical survey of England and Wales. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of 
quoting a few sentences. 

“ In two distances that were deduced from sets of triangles, the one measured by 
General Roy in 1787, the other by Major Mudge in 1794, one of 24,133 miles, and the 
other of 38,688, the two measures agree within a foot as to the first distance, and 
16 inches as to the second. Such an agreement, where the observers and the instru¬ 
ments were both different, where the lines measured were of such extent, and deduced 
from such a variety of data, is probably without any other example. Coincidences of 
this sort are frequent in the trigonometrical survey, and prove how much more good 
instruments, used by skilful and attentive observers, are capable of performing, than 
the most sanguine theorist could have ever ventured to foretel. 

“ It is curious to compare the early essays of practical geometry with the perfection 
to which its operations have now reached, and to consider that, while the artist had 
made so little progress, the theorist had reached many of the sublimest heights of 
mathematical speculation; that the latter had found out the area of the circle, and 
calculated its circumference to more than a hundred places of decimals, when the 
former could hardly divide an arch into minutes of a degree ; and that many excellent 
treatises had been written on the properties of curve lines, before a straight line of 
considerable length had ever been carefully drawn, or exactly measured on the surface 
of the earth.” 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 391 

which matter possesses in common with space, and which may there¬ 
fore be separated in fact, as well as abstracted in thought, from all 
its other sensible qualities. In examining, accordingly, the relations 
of quantity connected with these affections, we are not liable to be 
disturbed by those physical accidents, which in the other applica¬ 
tions of mathematical science necessarily render the result, more 
or less, at variance with the theory. In measuring the height of a 
mountain, or in the survey of a country, if we are at due pains in 
ascertaining our data, and if we reason from them with mathematical 
strictness, the result may be depended on as accurate within very 
narrow limits; and as there is nothing but the incorrectness of our 
data by which the result can be vitiated, the limits of possible error 
may themselves be assigned. But, in the simplest applications of 
mathematics to mechanics or to physics, the abstractions which are 
necessary in the theory must always leave out circumstances which 
are essentially connected with the effect. In demonstrating, for 
example, the property of the lever, we abstract entirely from its 
own weight, and consider it as an inflexible mathematical line ;— 
suppositions with which the fact cannot possibly correspond; and 
for which, of course, allowances (which nothing but physical expe¬ 
rience can enable us to judge of) must be made in practice.—(See 
Note ff.) 

Next to practical geometry, properly so called, one of the easiest 
applications of mathematical theory occurs in those branches of 
optics which are distinguished by the name of catoptrics and diop¬ 
trics. In these, the physical principles from which we reason are 
few and precisely definite, and the rest of the process is as purely 
geometrical as the Elements of Euclid. 

In that part of astronomy, too, which relates solely to the pheno¬ 
mena, without any consideration of physical causes, our reasonings 
are purely geometrical. The data, indeed, on which we proceed 
must have been previously ascertained by observation: but the 
inferences we draw from these are connected with them by mathe¬ 
matical demonstration, and are accessible to all who are acquainted 
with the theory of spherics. 

In physical astronomy, the law of gravitation becomes also a 
principle or datum in our reasonings ; but as in the celestial phe¬ 
nomena it is disengaged from the effects of the various other causes 
which are combined with it near the surface of our planet, this 
branch of physics, as it is of all the most sublime and comprehensive 
in its objects, so it seems, iii a greater degree than any other, to 
open a fair and advantageous field for mathematical ingenuity. 

In the instances which have been last mentioned the evidence of 
our conclusions resolves ultimately not only into that of sense, but 
into another law of belief formerly mentioned ; that which leads us 
to expect the continuance , in future , of the established order of 
physical phenomena. A very striking illustration of this presents 
itself in the computations of the astronomer; on the faith of 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


392 


which he predicts, with the most perfect assurance, many centuries 
before they happen, the appearances which the heavenly bodies 
are to exhibit. The same fact is assumed in all our conclusions in 
natural philosophy; and something extremely analogous to it in all 
our conclusions concerning human affairs. They relate, in both 
cases, not to necessary connexions, but to probable or contingent 
events ; of which, how confidently soever we may expect them to 
take place, the failure is by no means perceived to be impossible. 
Such conclusions, therefore, differ essentially from those to which 
we are led by the demonstrations of pure mathematics, which not 
only command our assent to the theorems they establish, but satisfy 
us that the contrary suppositions are absurd. 

These examples may suffice to convey a general idea of the dis¬ 
tinction between demonstrative and probable evidence ; and I pur¬ 
posely borrowed them from sciences where the two are brought 
into immediate contrast with each other, and where the authority 
of both has hitherto been equally undisputed. 

Before prosecuting any farther the subject of probable evidence, 
some attention seems to be due, in the first place, to the grounds 
of that fundamental supposition on which it proceeds,—the stability 
of the order of nature. Of this important subject, accordingly, I 
propose to treat at some length. 

II. Of that Permanence or Stability in the Order of Nature , which 
is presupposed in our Reasonings concerning Contingent Truths .—I 
have already taken notice of a remarkable principle of the mind, 
(whether coeval with the first exercise of its powers, or the gradual 
result of habit, it is not at present material to inquire,) in conse¬ 
quence of which we are irresistibly led to apply to future events 
the results of our past experience. In again resuming the subject, 
I do not mean to add anything to what was,then stated concerning 
the origin or the nature of this principle ; but shall confine myself 
to a few reflections on that established order in the succession of 
events, which it unconsciously assumes as a fact; and which, if it 
were not real, would render human life a continued series of errors 
and disappointments. In any incidental remarks that may occur 
on the principle itself, I shall consider its existence as a thing uni¬ 
versally acknowledged, and shall direct my attention chiefly to its 
practical effects ;—effects which will be found to extend equally to 
the theories of the learned and to the prejudices of the vulgar. 
The question with regard to its origin is, in truth, a problem of 
mere curiosity; for of its actual influence on our belief and on our 
conduct, no doubts have been suggested by the most sceptical writers. 

Before entering, however, upon the following argument, it may 
not be superfluous to observe, with respect to this expectation, 
that in whatever manner it at first arises, it cannot fail to be mightily 
confirmed and strengthened by habits of scientific research ; the 
tendency of which is to familiarise us more and more with the sim¬ 
plicity and the uniformity of physical laws, by gradually reconciling 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 393 

with them, as our knowledge extends, those phenomena which we 
had previously been disposed to consider in the light of exceptions. 
It is thus that, when due allowances are made for the different cir¬ 
cumstances of the two events, the ascent of smoke appears to be no 
less a proof of the law of gravitation than the fall of a stone. This 
simplification and generalization of the laws of nature is one of 
the greatest pleasures which philosophy yields ; and the growing 
confidence with which it is anticipated forms one of the chief 
incentives to philosophical pursuits. Few, experiments, perhaps, 
in physics, afford more exquisite delight to the novice, or throw a 
stronger light on the nature and object of that science, than when 
he sees, for the first time, the guinea and the feather drop together 
in the exhausted receiver. 

In the language of modern science, the established order in the 
succession of physical events is commonly referred (by a sort of 
figure or metaphor) to the general laws of nature. It is a mode of 
speaking extremely convenient from its conciseness, but is apt to 
suggest to the fancy a groundless, and indeed absurd analogy 
between the material and the moral worlds. As the order of society 
results from the laws prescribed by the legislator, so the order of 
the universe is conceived to result from certain laws established by 
the Deity. Thus, it is customary to say, that the fall of heavy 
bodies towards the earth’s surface, the ebbing and flowing of the 
sea, and the motions of the planets in their orbits, are consequences 
of the law of gravitation. But although, in one sense, this may be 
abundantly accurate, it ought always to be kept in view, that it is 
not a literal but a metaphorical statement of the truth ; a statement 
somewhat analogous to that poetical expression in the sacred writ¬ 
ings, in which God is said “ to have given his decree to the seas, 
that they should not pass his commandment.” In those political 
associations from which the metaphor is borrowed, the laws are 
addressed to rational and voluntary agents, who are able to com¬ 
prehend their meaning, and to regulate their conduct accordingly; 
whereas, in the material universe, the subjects of our observation 
are understood by all men to be unconscious and passive, (that is, 
are understood to be unchangeable in their state, without the in¬ 
fluence of some foreign or external force,) and consequently the 
order so admirably maintained, amidst all the various changes which 
they actually undergo, not only implies intelligence in its first con¬ 
ception, but implies, in its continued existence, the incessant agency 
of power, executing the purposes of wise design. If the word law, 
therefore, be, in such instances, literally interpreted, it must mean 
a uniform mode of operation, prescribed by the Deity to himself; 
and it has accordingly been explained in this sense by some of our 
best philosophical writers, particularly by Dr. Clarke.* In employ- 

* So likewise Halley, in his Latin verses prefixed to Newton’s Principia ; 

44 En tibi norma poli, et divse libramina molis, 

Computus en Jo vis ; et quas, dum primordia rerum 


PART II. 


CIIAP. V. 


394 


ing, however, the word with an exclusive reference to experimental 
philosophy, it is more correctly logical to consider it as merely a 
statement of some general fact with respect to the order of nature; 
a fact which has been found to hold uniformly in our past expe¬ 
rience, and on the continuance of which, in future, the constitution 
of our mind determines us confidently to rely. 

After what has been already said, it is hardly necessary to take 
notice of the absurdity of that opinion, or rather of that mode of 
speaking, which seems to refer the order of the universe to general 
laws operating as efficient causes. Absurd, however, as it is, there 
is reason to suspect, that it has, with many, had the effect of keep¬ 
ing the Deity out of view, while they were studying his works. To 
an incautious use of the same very equivocal phrase, may be traced 
the bewildering obscurity in the speculations of some eminent 
French writers, concerning its metaphysical import. Even the 
great Montesquieu, in the very first chapter of his principal work, 
has lost himself in a fruitless attempt to explain its meaning, when, 
by a simple statement of the essential distinction between its literal 
and its metaphorical acceptations, he might have at once cleared up 
the mystery. After telling us that “ laws, in their most extensive 
signification, are the necessary relations {les rapports necessaires ) 
which arise from the nature of things, and that, in this sense, all 
beings have their laws;—that the Deity has his laws; the material 
world its laws; intelligences superior to man their laws; the brutes 
their laws; man his laws;” he proceeds to remark, “ That the' 
moral world is far from being so well governed as the material; for 
the former, although it has its laws, which are invariable, does not 
observe these laws so constantly as the latter.” It is evident that 
this remark derives whatever plausibility it possesses from a play 
upon words; from confounding moral laws with physical; or, in 
plainer terms, from confounding laws which are addressed by a 
legislator to intelligent beings, with those general conclusions con¬ 
cerning the established order of the universe, to which, when 
legitimately inferred from an induction sufficiently extensive, philo¬ 
sophers have metaphorically applied the title of Laws of Nature. 
In the one case, the conformity of the law with the nature of things, 
does not at all depend on its being observed or not, but on the rea¬ 
sonableness and moral obligation of the law. In the other case-, 
the very definition of the word law supposes that it applies univer¬ 
sally; insomuch that, if it failed in one single instance, it would 
cease to be a law. It is, therefore, a mere quibble to say, that the 
laws of the material world are better observed than those of the 
moral; the meaning of the word law, in the two cases to which it 
is here applied, being so totally different as to render the compa¬ 
rison or contrast, in the statement of which it is involved, altogether 

Pangeret, omniparens leges violare Creator 

Noluit.” 

[Here you will find the laws that regulate, and the equilibrium of the celestial 
system. Here the calculations of the divine Ruler, and those principles which the 
omnipotent Creator did not wish to violate in making the primitive frame of the world.] 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 395 

illusory and sophistical. Indeed, nothing more is necessary to strip 
the proposition of every semblance of plausibility, but an attention 
to this verbal ambiguity.* * * § 

This metaphorical employment of the word law, to express a 
general fact, although it does not appear to have been adopted in 
the technical phraseology of ancient philosophy, is not unusual 
among the classical writers, when speaking of those physical ar¬ 
rangements, whether on the earth or in the heavens, which continue 
to exhibit the same appearance from age to age. 

“ Hie segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvae : 

Arborei fetus alibi, atque injussa virescunt 
Gramina. Nonne vides, croceos ut Trnolus odores, 

India mittit ebur, niolles sua thura Saboei ? 

At Chalybes uudi fe'rrum, virosaque Pontus 
Castorea, Eliadum palmas Epiros equarum ? 

Continuo has leges, aeternaque foedera certis 
Imposuit natura locis.”—Virg. i. Georg. GO.f 

The same metaphor occurs in another passage of the Georgies, 
where the poet describes the regularity which is exhibited in the 
economy of the bees: 

“ Solae communes natos, consortia tecta 

Urbis liabent, magnisque agitaut sub legibus zevum.” 

Georg, iv. 153.1 

The following lines from Ovid’s account of the Pythagorean 
philosophy, are still more in point: 

“ Et rerum causas, et quid natura docebat; 

Quid Deus : Unde nives : quse fulminis esset origo : m 

Jupiter, an venti, discussa nube tonarent: 

Quid quateret terras, qua sidera lege mearent, 

Et quodcunque latet.”—Ovid. Met. xv. 68.§ 

* I do not recollect any instance in the writings of Montesquieu, where he has 
reasoned more vaguely than in this chapter ; and yet I am inclined to believe, that few 
chapters in the Spirit of Laws have been more admired. “ Montesquieu,” says a 
French writer, “ paroissoit a Thomas le premier des ecrivains, pour la force et l’etendue 
des idees, pour la multitude, la profondeur, la nouveaute des rapports. II est incroyable 
(disoit-il) tout ce que Montesquieu a fait apper^evoir dans ce mot si court, le mot Loi.” 
—Nouveau Diction. Historique, Art. Thomas. Lyon, 1804. 

For some important remarks on the distinction between moi’al and physical laws, see 
Dr. Ferguson’s Institutes or Moral Philosophy, last edit. 

f “ Here golden corn, there luscious grapes abound, 

There grass spontaneous, or rich fruits are found ; 

Seest thou not, Trnolus, saffron sweets dispense, 

Her ivory Ind, Arabia frankincense ? 

The naked Chalybes their iron ore 
To Castor Pontus gives its fetid power; 

While for Olympic games Epirus breeds, 

To whirl the circling car, the swiftest steeds : 

Nature these laws and these eternal bands, 

First fixed on certain climes and certain lands.” 

Warton, Georg, i. 1. 69. 

J “ They, they alone a general interest share, 

Their young committing to the public care, 

And all concurring to the common cause, 

Live in fix’d cities under common laws.” 

Warton, Georg, iv. 1. 183. 

§ u The crowd, with silent admiration, stand, 

And heard him as they heard their God’s command, 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


396 . 


I have quoted these different passages from ancient, authors, 
chiefly as an illustration of the strength and of the similarity of the 
impression which the order of nature has made on the minds of 
reflecting men, in all ages of the world. Nor is this wonderful; 
for, were things differently constituted, it would be impossible for 
man to derive benefit from experience; and the powers of observa¬ 
tion and memory would be subservient only to the gratification of 


While he discoursed of heaven’s mysterious laws, 

The worlds oi'iginal, and nature’s cause ; 

Aud what was God, and why the fleecy snows 
In silence fell, and rattling winds arose 
That shook the stedfast earth, and whence began 
The dance of planets round the radiant suu. 

If thunder was the angry voice of Jove, 

Or clouds with nitre fragrant burst above ; 

Of these, and things beyond the common reach, 

He spoke, and charmed his audience with his speech.” 

Ovid’s Metamorphoses, translated by Dryden, xv. 1. 87. 

I shall only add to these quotations the epigram of Claudian on the instrument 
said to be invented by Archimedes for representing the movements of the heavenly 
bodies, in which various expressions occur coinciding remarkably with the scope of the 
foregoing observations. 

<( Jupiter in parvo cum cerneret setliera vitro 
Risit, et ad superos talia dicta dedit. 

Huccine moi'talis progressa potentia curse ; 

Jam meus in fragili luditur orbe labor. 

Jura Poli, rerumque fidem, legesque Deorum 
Ecce Syracusius transtulit arte senex. 

Inclusus vai’iis famulatur spiritus astris, 

Et vivum certis motibus urget opus. 

Percurrit proprium mentitus signifer annum, 

Et simulata novo Cynthia mense redit. 

Jamque suum volvens audax industria mundum 
Gaudet, et humana Sydei’a mente regit. 

Quid falso insontem tonitru Salmonea miror \ 

^Emula naturoe parva reperta manus.” 

[When Jove beheld a crystal globe display 

The world, he thus addressed Olympus’ train : 

Can mortals o’er the spheres possess such sway ? 

By such a toy my might be mocked as vain ? 

Great Heaven’s rules, th’ unerring course of things, 

Laws of the gods, expounds Sicilia’s sage ; 

The flight of stars imprison’d air here wings, 

Its simple powers their varying movements gauge : 

The zodiac here wheels its little year, 

The mimic moon succeeding months restore ; 

By human art the spheres attun’d are here, 

By it instinct the stars in ether soar. 

Instructed hence no longer view with wonder, 

Salmonea’s chariot and his bridge of thunder.] 

In the progress of philosophical refinement at Rome, this metaphorical application 
of the word law seems to have been attended with the same consequences which, as I 
already observed, have resulted from an incautious use of it among some philosophei's 
of modeni Eux’ope. Pliny tells us, that, in his time, these consequences extended 
both to the lettered, and to the unlettered multitude. f ‘ Pars alia astro suo eventus 
assignat, et nascendi legibus; semelque in omnes futux’os unquam Deo deci’etum in 
reliquum vero otium datum. Sedei-e csepit sententia luec, pai’iterque et eruditum 
vulgus et rude in earn cursu vadit.”—Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. ii. 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 397 

an idle curiosity. In consequence of those uniform laws by which 
the succession of events is actually regulated, every fact collected 
with respect to the past is a foundation of sagacity and of skill with 
respect to the future; and, in truth, it is chiefly this application of 
experience to anticipate what is yet to happen, which forms the 
intellectual superiority of one individual above another. The re¬ 
mark holds equally in all the various pursuits of mankind, whether 
speculative or active. As an astronomer is able, by reasonings 
founded on past observations, to predict those phenomena of the 
heavens which astonish or terrify the savage;—as the chemist, from 
his previous familiarity with the changes operated upon bodies by 
heat or by mixture, can predict the result of innumerable experi¬ 
ments, which to others furnish only matter of amusement and 
wonder;—so a studious observer of human affairs acquires a pro¬ 
phetic foresight (still more incomprehensible to the multitude) with 
respect to the future fortunes of mankind;—a foresight which, if it 
does not reach, like our anticipations in physical science, to par¬ 
ticular and definite events, amply compensates for what it wants in 
precision, by the extent and variety of the prospects which it opens. 
It is from this apprehended analogy between the future and the 
past, that historical knowledge derives the whole of its value; and 
were the analogy completely to fail, the records of former ages 
would, in point of utility, rank with the fictions of poetry. Nor is 
the case different in the business of common life. Upon what does 
the success of men in their private concerns so essentially depend 
as on their own prudence: and what else does this word mean, than 
a wise regard, in every step of their conduct, to the lessons which 
experience has taught them ?* 

[The departments of the universe in which we have an oppor¬ 
tunity of seeing this regular order displayed, are the three follow¬ 
ing :—1. The phenomena of inanimate matter; 2. The phenomena 
of the lower animals ; and, 3. The phenomena exhibited by the 
human trace.] 

(1.) On the first of these heads, I have only to repeat what was 
before remarked. That in all the phenomena of the material world, 
the uniformity in the order of events is conceived by us to be com¬ 
plete and infallible ; insomuch that, to be assured of the same 
result upon a repetition of the same experiment, we require only 
to be satisfied that both have been made in circumstances precisely 
similar. A single experiment, accordingly, if conducted with due 
attention, is considered, by the most cautious inquirers, as sufficient 
to establish a general physical fact; and if, on any occasion, it 
should be repeated a second time, for the sake of greater certainty 
in the conclusion, it is merely with a view of guarding against the 
effects of the accidental concomitants which may have escaped 
notice, when the first result was obtained. 

(£.) The case is nearly similar in the phenomena exhibited by 
* “ Prudentiam quodammodo esse divinationem.”—Corn. Nep. in vita Attici. 


398 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


the brutes ; the various tribes of which furnish a subject of exami¬ 
nation so steady, that the remarks made on a few individuals may 
be extended, with little risk of error, to the whole species. To 
this uniformity in their instincts it is owing, that man can so easily 
maintain his empire over them, and employ them as agents or 
instruments for accomplishing his purposes ; advantages which 
would be wholly lost to him, if the operations of instinct were as 
much diversified as those of human reason. Here, therefore, we 
may plainly trace a purpose or design, perfectly analogous to 
that already remarked, with respect to the laws which regulate the 
material world; and the difference in point of exact uniformity, 
which distinguishes the two classes of events, obviously arises from 
a certain latitude of action, which enables the brutes to accom¬ 
modate themselves, in some measure, to their accidental situations; 
•—rendering them, in consequence of this power of accommoda¬ 
tion, incomparably more serviceable to our race than they would 
have been, if altogether subjected, like mere matter, to the influence 
of regular and assignable causes. It is, moreover, extremely 
worthy of observation, concerning these two departments of the 
universe, that the uniformity in the phenomena of the latter pre¬ 
supposes a corresponding regularity in the phenomena of the 
former; insomuch that, if the established order of the material 
world were to be essentially disturbed (the instincts of the brutes 
remaining the same) all their various tribes would inevitably 
perish. The uniformity of animal instinct, therefore, bears a 
reference to the constancy and immutability of physical laws, 
not less manifest than that of the fin of the fish to the properties 
of the water, or of the wing of the bird to those of the atmosphere. 

(3.) When from the phenomena of inanimate matter and those 
of the lower animals, we turn our attention to the history of our 
own species, innumerable lessons present themselves for the 
instruction of all who reflect seriously on the great concerns of 
human life. These lessons require, indeed, an uncommon degree 
of acuteness and good sense to collect them, and a still more un¬ 
common degree of caution to apply them to practice; not only 
because it is difficult to find cases in which the combinations of 
circumstances are exactly the same, but because the peculiarities 
of individual character are infinite, and the real springs of action 
in our fellow-creatures are objects only of vague and doubtful con¬ 
jecture. It is, however, a curious fact, and one which opens a 
wide field of interesting speculation, that, in proportion as we 
extend our views from particulars to generals, and from individuals 
to communities, human affairs exhibit, more and more, a steady 
subject of philosophical imagination, and furnish a greater number 
of general conclusions to guide our conjectures concerning future 
contingencies. To speculate concerning the character or talents 
of the individual who shall possess the throne of a particular king¬ 
dom a hundred years hence, would be absurd in the extreme : but 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 399 

to indulge imagination in anticipating, at the same distance of time, 
the condition and character of any great nation, with whose man¬ 
ners and political situation we are well acquainted, (although even 
here our conclusions may be widely erroneous,) could not be justly 
censured as a misapplication of our faculties equally vain and 
irrational with the former. On this subject Mr. Hume has made 
some very ingenious and important remarks in the beginning of 
his Essay on the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences. 

The same observation is applicable to all other cases in which 
events depend on a multiplicity of circumstances. How accidental 
soever these circumstances may appear, and how much soever they 
may be placed, when individually considered, beyond the reach of 
our calculations, experience shows that they are somehow or other 
mutually adjusted, so as to produce a certain degree of uniformity 
in the result; and this uniformity is the more complete, the greater 
is the number of circumstances combined. What can appear 

more uncertain than the proportion between the sexes among the 
children of any one family ! and yet how wonderfully is the balance 
preserved in the case of a numerous society! What more preca¬ 
rious than the duration of life in an individual! and yet, in a long 
list of persons of the same age, and placed in the same circum¬ 
stances, the mean duration of life is found to vary within very 
narrow limits. In an extensive district, too, a considerable degree 
of regularity may sometimes be traced, for a course of years, in 
the proportion of births and of deaths to the number of the whole 
inhabitants. Thus, in France, Necker informs us, that “ the num¬ 
ber of births is in proportion to that of the inhabitants as one to 
twenty-three and twenty-four, in the districts that are not favoured 
by nature nor by moral circumstance; this proportion is as one 
to twenty-five, twenty-five and a-half, and twenty-six, in the greatest 
part of France; in cities, as one to twenty-seven, twenty-eight, 
twenty-nine, and even thirty, according to their extent and their 
trade.” “ Such proportions,” he observes, “ can only be remarked 
in districts where there are no settlers nor emigrants ,* but even the 
differences arising from these (the same author adds,) and many 
other causes, acquire a kind of uniformity, when collectively con¬ 
sidered, and in the immense extent of so great a kingdom.”— 
(Traite de l’Administration des Finances de France.) 

It may be worth while to remark, that it is on these principles 
that all the different institutions for assurances are founded. The 
object at which they all aim, in common, is to diminish the number 
of accidents to which human life is exposed, or rather to counteract 
the inconveniences resulting from the irregularity of individual 
events, by the uniformity of general laws. 

The advantages which w^e derive from such general conclusions 
as we possess concerning the order of nature are so great, and our 
propensity to believe in its existence is so strong, that, even m 
cases where the succession of events appears the most anomalous. 


400 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


we are apt to suspect the operation of fixed and constant laws, 
though we may be' unable to trace them. The vulgar, in all coun¬ 
tries, perhaps, have a propensity to imagine, that, after a certain 
number of years, the succession of plentiful and of scanty harvests 
begins again to be repeated in the same series as before, a notion 
to which Lord Bacon himself has given some countenance in the 
following passage :—“ There is a toy which I have heard, and I 
would not have it given over, but waited upon a little. They say 
it is observed in the Low Countries, (I know not in what part,) that 
every five-and-thirty years, the same kind and suite of years and 
weathers come about again; as great frosts, great wet, great 
droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, and the like; 
and they call it the prime. It is a thing I do the rather mention, 
because, computing backwards, I have found some concurrence.” 
—(Essays, Art. 59.) 

Among the philosophers of antiquity, the influence of the same 
prejudice is observable on a scale still greater, many of them having 
supposed, that at the end of the annus magnus, or Platonic year, 
a repetition would commence of all the transactions that have 
occurred on the theatre of the world. According to this doctrine, 
the predictions in Virgil’s Pollio will, sooner or later, be literally 
accomplished : 

“ Alter erit turn Typhis, et altera quae vehat Argo 
Delectos Heroas ; erunt etiam altera bella ; 

Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Acliilli9. M * 

The astronomical cycles which the Greeks borrowed from the 
Egyptians and Chaldeans, when combined* with that natural bias of 
the mind which I have just remarked, account sufficiently for this 
extension to the moral world, of ideas suggested by the order of 
physical phenomena. 

Nor is this hypothesis of a moral cycle extravagant as it unques¬ 
tionably is, without its partisans among modern theorists. The 
train of thought, indeed, by which they have been led to adopt it 
is essentially different; but it probably received no small degree of 
countenance, in their opinion, from the same bias which influenced 
the speculations of the ancients. It has been demonstrated by one 

* “ And other Argos bear the chosen powers, 

New wars the bleeding nations shall destroy, 

And great Achilles find a second Troy.” 

“Turn efficitur,” says Cicero, speaking of this period, “cum solis et lunse, et 
quinque errantium ad eandem inter se, comparationem eonfectis omnium spatiis, est 
facta conversio. Q,use qukm longa sit, magna qusestio est: esse vero certam et defini- 
tam necesse est.”—De Nat. Deorum, lib. ii. 74. “ Hoc intervallo/’ Clavius observes, 

“ quidam volunt, omnia qusecunque in mundo sunt, eodem ordine esse reditura, quo 
nunc cernuntur.”—Clav. Commentar. in Sphseram Joannis de Sacro Bosco, p. 57. 
Romse, 1607. [It is then effected when there is a transition of the sun and moon, 
and of the five planets, to the same relative position, the periods of them all being 
completed. It is very doubtful how remote this may be, but it is necessary that it 
be certain and definite.—(Concerning the Nature of the Gods.) Some maintain that 
after this interval everything in the world will return to the same order in which they 
now are.] 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 401 

of the most profound mathematicians of the present age, (M. de La 
Grange) that all the irregularities arising from the mutual action 
of the planets are, by a combination of various arrangements, neces¬ 
sarily subjected to certain periodical laws, so as for ever to secure 
the stability and order of the system. Of this sublime conclusion 
it has been justly and beautifully observed, that “ after Newton’s 
theory of the elliptic orbits of the planets, La Grange’s discovery 
of their periodical inequalities is, without doubt, the noblest truth 
in physical astronomy; while, in respect of the doctrine of final 
causes, it may truly be regarded as the greatest of all.” (Edinburgh 
Review, vol. xi. p. 264.) The theorists, however, to whom I at 
present allude, seem disposed to consider it in a very different light, 
and to employ it for purposes of a very different tendency. “ Similar 
periods, it has been said, but of an extent that affright the imagina¬ 
tion, probably regulate the modifications of the atmosphere ; inas¬ 
much as the same series of appearances must inevitably recur, 
whenever a coincidence of circumstances takes place. The aggregate 
labours of men, indeed, may be supposed, at first sight, to alter the 
operation of natural causes, by continually transforming the face of 
our globe; but it must be recollected that, as the agency of animals 
is itself stimulated and determined solely by the influence of exter¬ 
nal objects, the reactions of living beings are comprehended in the 
same necessary system; and, consequently, that all the events 
within the immeasurable circuit of the universe, are the successive 
evolution of an extended series, which, at the returns of some vast 
period, repeats its eternal round during the endless flux of time.”* 

On this very bold argument, considered in its connexion with the 
scheme of Necessity, I have nothing to observe here. I have men¬ 
tioned it merely as an additional proof of that irresistible propensity 
to believe in the permanent order of physical events, which seems 
to form an original principle of the human constitution ;—a belief 
essential to our existence in the world which we inhabit, as well as 
the foundation of all physical science; but which we obviously 
extend far beyond the bounds authorised by sound philosophy, 
when we apply it, without any limitation, to that moral system, 
which is distinguished by peculiar characteristics so numerous and 
important, and for the accommodation of which, so many reasons 
entitle us to presume that the material universe, with all its con¬ 
stant and harmonious laws, was purposely arranged. 

[To a hasty and injudicious application of the same belief, in 
anticipating the future course of human affairs, might be traced a 
variety of popular superstitions , which have prevailed, in a greater 
or less degree, in all nations and ages; those superstition?, for 
example, which have given rise to the study of charms, of omens, of 
astrology, and of the different arts of divination.] But the argu- 

* The foregoing passage is transcribed from an article in the Monthly Review. I 
have neglected to mark the volume ; but I think it is one of those published since 1800. 
—See note o g. 


d D 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


402 


ment has been already prosecuted as far as its connexion with this 
part of the subject requires. For a fuller illustration of it, I refer 
to some remarks in my First Part, on the superstitious observances 
which, among rude nations, are constantly found blended with the 
practice of physic ; and which, contemptible and ludicrous as they 
seem, have an obvious foundation, during the infancy of human 
reason, in those important principles of our nature, which, when 
duly disciplined by a more enlarged experience, lead to the sublime 
discoveries of inductive science. See pp. 185—188. 

Nor is it to the earlier stages of society, or to the lower classes 
of the people, that these superstitions are confined. Even in the 
most enlightened and refined periods, they occasionally appear ; 
exercising, not unfrequently, over men of the highest genius and 
talents, an ascendant which is at once consolatory and humiliating 
to the species. 

“ Ecce fulgurum monitus, oraculorum praescita, aruspicum prse- 
dicta, atque etiam parva dictu in auguriis sternutamenta et offen- 
siones pedum. Divus Augustus lsevum prodidit sibi calceum praepos- 
tere inductum, quo die seditione militari prope afilictus est.” (Plin. 
Nat. Hist. lib. ii.)* 

“ Dr. Johnson,” says his affectionate and very communicative 
biographer, “ had another particularity, of which none of his friends 
ever ventured to ask an explanation. It appeared to me some 
superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, and from which 
he had never called upon his reason to disentangle him. This was 
his anxious care to go out or in at a door or passage, by a certain 
number of steps from a certain point,, or at least so as that either his 
right or his left foot (I am not certain which) should constantly 
make the first actual movement when he came close to the door or 
passage. Thus I conjecture: for I have, upon innumerable'occa¬ 
sions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps 
with a deep earnestness ; and when he had neglected or gone 
wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back 
again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and 
having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly 
on, and join his companion.”—(BoswelPs Johnson, vol. i. p. 264, 
4to edit.) 

The remark may appear somewhat out of place, but, after the 
last quotation, I may be permitted to say, that the person to whom 
it relates, great as his powers and splendid as his accomplishments 
undoubtedly were, was scarcely entitled to assert, that “ Education 
is as well known, and has long been as well known, as ever it can 
be.” (Ibid. p. 514.) What a limited estimate of the objects of 
education must this great man have formed! They who know the 


* [Consider the warnings of thunder, the presages of oracles, the predictions of 
soothsayers, and even such insignificant circumstances, in augury, as sneezing and 
tripping of the feet. The emperor Augustus related, that his left sock was put on 
wrongly on the day when he was near perishing in a mutiny.] 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 403 

value of a well regulated and unclouded mind, would not incur the 
weakness and wretchedness exhibited in the foregoing description, 
for all his literary acquirements and literary fame. 

III. General Remarks on the difference between the Evidence of 
Experience and that of Analogy. —According to the account of 
experience which has been hitherto given, its evidence reaches no 
farther than to an anticipation of the future from the past, in cases 
where the same physical cause continues to operate in exactly the 
same circumstances. That this statement is agreeable to the strict 
philosophical notioffof experience, will not be disputed. Wherever 
a change takes place, either in the cause itself, or in the circum¬ 
stances combined with it in our former trials, the anticipations 
which we form of the future cannot with propriety be referred to 
experience alone, but to experience co-operating with some other 
principles of our nature. In common discourse, however, precision 
in the use of language is not to be expected, where logical or meta¬ 
physical ideas are at all concerned ; and, therefore, it is not to be 
wondered at that the word experience should often be employed 
with a latitude greatly beyond what the former definition authorises. 
When I transfer, for example, my conclusions concerning the 
descent of heavy bodies from one stone to another stone, or even 
from a stone to a leaden bullet, my inference might be said, with 
sufficient accuracy for the ordinary purposes of 'speech, to have 
the evidence of experience in its favour; if indeed it would not 
savour of scholastic affectation to aim at a more rigorous enuncia¬ 
tion of the proposition. Nothing, at the same time, can be more 
evident than this, that the slightest shade of difference which 
tends to weaken the resemblance, or rather to destroy the identity 
of two cases, invalidates the inference from the one to the other, as 
far as it rests on experience solely, no less than the most prominent 
dissimilitudes which characterise the different kingdoms and depart¬ 
ments of nature. 

Upon what ground do I conclude that the thrust of a sword 
through my body, in a particular direction, would be followed by 
instant death? According to the popular use of language, the 
obvious answer would be—upon experience, and experience alone. 
But surely this account of the matter is extremely loose and incor¬ 
rect ; for where is the evidence that the internal structure of my 
body bears any resemblance to that of any of the other bodies 
which have been hitherto examined by anatomists? It is no answer 
to this question to tell me, that the experience of these anatomists 
has ascertained a uniformity of structure in every human subject 
which has as yet been dissected; and that therefore I am justified 
in concluding, that my body forms no exception to the general rule. 
My question does not relate to the soundness of this inference, but 
to the principle of my nature, which leads me thus not only, to 
reason from the past to the future, but to reason from one thing 
to another which, in its external marks, bears a certain degree of 

D D 2 


404 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


resemblance to it. Something more than experience/in the strictest 
sense of that word, is surely necessary to explain the transition 
from what is identically the same, to what is only similar; and yet 
my inference in this instance is made with the most assured and 
unqualified confidence in the infallibility of the result. No infer¬ 
ence, founded on the most direct and long-continued experience, 
nor indeed any proposition established by mathematical demon¬ 
stration, could more imperiously command my assent. 

In whatever manner the province of experience, strictly so called, 
comes to be thus enlarged, it is perfectly manifest that, without 
some provision for this purpose, the principles of our constitution 
would not have been duly adjusted to the scene in which we have 
to act. Were we not so formed as eagerly to seize the resembling 
features of different things and different events, and to extend our 
conclusions from the individual to the species, life would elapse 
before we had acquired the first rudiments of that knowledge which 
is essential to the preservation of our animal existence. 

This step in the history of the human mind has been little, if at 
all, attended to by philosophers; and it is certainly not easy to 
explain, in a manner completely satisfactory, how it is made. 
The following hints seem to me to go a considerable way towards 
a solution of the difficulty. 

It is remarked by Mr. Smith, in his considerations on the form¬ 
ation of languages, that the origin of genera and species, which is 
commonly represented in the schools as the effect of an intellectual 
process peculiarly mysterious and unintelligible, is a natural conse¬ 
quence of our disposition to transfer to a new object the name of 
any other familiar object which possesses such a degree of resem¬ 
blance to it, as to serve the memory for an associating tie between 
them. It is in this manner, he has shown, and not by any formal 
or scientific exercise of abstraction, that, in the infancy of language, 
proper names are gradually transformed into appellatives ; or, in 
other words, that individual things come to be referred to classes 
or assortments.* 

This remark becomes, in my opinion, much more luminous and 
important, by being combined with another very original one, which 
is ascribed to Turgot by Condorcet, and which I do not recollect 
to have seen taken notice of by any later writer on the human mind. 
According to the common doctrine of logicians, we are led to suppose 
that our knowledge begins in an accurate and minute acquaintance 
with the characteristical properties of individual objects; and that 

* A writer of great learning and ability (Dr. Magee, archbishop of Dublin), who has 
done me the honour to animadvert on a few passages of my works, and who has softened 
his criticisms by some expressions of regard, by which I feel myself highly flattered 
has started a very acute objection to this theory of Mr. Smith, which I think it incum¬ 
bent on me to submit to my readers, in his own words. As the quotation, however 
with the remarks which I have to offer upon it, would extend to too great a length to 

be introduced here, I must delay entering on the subject till the end of this volume._ 

See note h h. 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 405 

it is only by the slow exercise of comparison and abstraction, that 
we attain to the notion of classes or genera. In opposition to this 
idea, it was a maxim of Turgot’s, that some of our most abstract 
and general notions are among the earliest which we form.* What 
meaning he annexed to this maxim we are not informed; but if he 
understood it in the same sense in which I am disposed to interpret 
it, he appears to me entitled to the credit of a very valuable sugges¬ 
tion with respect to the natural progress of human knowledge. The 
truth is, that our first perceptions lead us invariably to confound 
together things which have very little in common; and that the 
specifical differences of individuals do not begin to be marked with 
precision till the powers of observation and reasoning have attained 
to a certain degree of maturity. To a similar indistinctness of 

perception are to be ascribed the mistakes about the most fami¬ 
liar appearances which we daily see committed by those domes¬ 
ticated animals with whose instincts and habits we have an oppor¬ 
tunity of becoming intimately acquainted. As an instance of this, 
it is sufficient to mention the terror which a horse sometimes dis¬ 
covers in passing, on the road, a large stone, or the waterfall of 
a mill. 

Notwithstanding, however, the justness of this maxim, it is never¬ 
theless true, that every scientific classification must be founded on 
an examination and comparison of individuals. These individuals 
must, in the first instance, have been observed with accuracy, before 
their specific characteristics could be rejected from the generic 
description, so as to limit the attention to the common qualities 
which it comprehends. What are usually called general ideas or 
general notions, are therefore of two kinds essentially different from 
each other: those which are general, merely from the vagueness and 
imperfection of our information; and those which have been 
methodically generalised in the way explained by logicians, in 
consequence of an abstraction founded on a careful study of par¬ 
ticulars. Philosophical precision requires that two sets of notions, 

* “ M. Turgot croyoit qu’on s’etoit trompe en imaginant qu’en general l’esprit 
n’acquiert des idees generates ou abstraites que par la comparaison d’idees plus parti- 
culieres. Au contraire, nos premieres idees sont tres-generales, puisque ne voyant 
d’abord qu’un petit nombre de qualites, notre id6e renferme tous les etres auxquels ces 
qualites sont communes. En nous eclairant, en examinant davantage, nos idees 
deviennent plus particulieres sans jamais atteindre le dernier terme; et ce qui a pu 
tromper les metaphysiciens, c’est qu’alors precisement nous apprenons que ces idees 
sont plus generates que nous ne l’avions d’abord suppose.”—Vie de Turgot, p. 189. 
Berne, 1787. 

[Mr. Turgot considered it a mistake to suppose that the mind in general does not 
acquire general or abstract ideas, except from comparing several abstract ideas. On 
the contrary, our first ideas are very general, since, at first perceiving but a small 
number of qualities, the idea formed by us comprehends all the beings to which these 
qualities are common. As our knowledge becomes more extended, our ideas become 
more particularised without the process ever ceasing, and that which has led metaphysi¬ 
cians into error is, that it is then precisely that we learn that these ideas are more 
general than we fii’st supposed.—Life of Turgot.] 

I have searched in vain for some additional light on this interesting hint, in the com¬ 
plete edition of Turgot’s Works, published at Paris in 1808. 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


406 


so totally dissimilar, should not be confounded together; and an 
attention to the distinction between them will be found to throw 
much light on various important steps in the natural history of the 
mind.* 

One obvious effect of the grossness and vagueness in the percep¬ 
tions of the inexperienced observer, must necessarily be to identify, 
under the same common appellations, immense multitudes of indi¬ 
viduals, which the philosopher will afterwards find reason to distin¬ 
guish carefully from each other; and as language, by its unavoidable 
reaction on thought, never fails to restore to it whatever imperfec¬ 
tions it has once received, all the indistinctness which, in the case 
of individual observers, originated in an ill-informed judgment, or in 
a capricious fancy, comes afterwards, in succeeding ages, to be en¬ 
tailed on the infant understanding, in consequence of its incorpora¬ 
tion with vernacular speech. These confused apprehensions pro¬ 
duced by language, must, it is easy to see, operate exactly in the 
same way as the undistinguishing perceptions of children or savages; 
the familiar use of a generic word, insensibly and irresistibly leading 
the mind to extend its conclusions from the individual to the genus, 
and thus laying the foundation of conclusions and anticipations 
which we suppose to rest on experience, when, in truth, experience 
has never been consulted. 

In all such instances, it is worthy of observation, we proceed 
ultimately on the common principle,—that in similar circumstances 
the same cause will produce the same effects ; and, when we err, the 
source of our error lies merely in identifying different cases which 
ought to be distinguished from each other. Great as may be the 
occasional inconveniences arising from this general principle thus 
misapplied, they bear no proportion to the essential advantages 
resulting from the disposition in which they originate, to arrange 
and to classify; a disposition on which (as I have elsewhere shown) 
the intellectual improvement of the species in a great manner hinges. 


* The distinction above stated furnishes what seems to me the true answer to an 
argument which Charron, and many other writers since his time, have drawn, in proof 
of the reasoning powers of brutes, from the universal conclusions which they appear to 
found on the observation of particulars. “ Les bestes des singuliers conclueut les 
universels, du regard d’uii homme seul coguoissent tous homines,” &c. &c.—De la 
Sagesse, lib. i. chap. 8. 

[Brutes deduce universals from singulars : from considering one man, they form a 
notion of all men_On Wisdom.] 

Instead of saying that brutes generalise things which are similar, would it not be 
nearer the truth to say that they confound things which are different ? 

Many years after these observations were written, I had the satisfaction to meet with 
the following experimental confirmation of them, in the Abbe Sicard’s Course of 
Instruction for the Deaf and Dumb : “ J’avois remarque que Massieu donnoit plus 
volontiers le nidme nom, un nom commun, h plusieurs individus dans lesquels il trouvoit 
des traits de ressemblance ; les noins individuels supposoient des differences qu’il 
n’etoit pas encore temps de lui faire observer.” (Sicard, pp. 30,31.) [I had remarked 
that Massieu was inclined to give the same name in common to those individuals in 
whom he found a resemblance of features : proper names supposed differences which 
he had not yet had time to observe.] The whole of the passage is well worth con¬ 
sulting. 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 407 

That the constitution of our nature in this respect is, on the whole, 
wisely ordered, as well as perfectly conformable to the general 
economy of our frame, will appear from a slight survey of some other 
principles, nearly allied to those which are at present under our 
consideration. 

[It has been remarked by some eminent writers in this part of 
the island,* that our expectation of the continuance of the laws of 
nature has a very close affinity to our faith in human testimony. 
The parallel might perhaps be carried, without any over-refinement, 
a little farther than these writers have attempted; inasmuch 
as, in both cases, the instinctive principle is, in the first instance, 
unlimited, and requires, for its correction and regulation, the les¬ 
sons of subsequent experience.] As the credulity of children is 
originally without bounds, and is afterwards gradually checked by 
the examples which they occasionally meet with of human false¬ 
hood, so, in the infancy of our knowledge, whatever objects or 
events present to our senses a strong resemblance to each o’ther, 
dispose us, without any very accurate examination of the minute 
details by which they may be really discriminated, to conclude with 
eagerness, that the experiments and observations which we make 
with respect to one individual, may be safely extended to the whole 
class. It is experience alone that teaches us caution in such infer¬ 
ences, and subjects the natural principle to the discipline prescribed 
by the rules of induction. 

It must not, however, be imagined that, in instances of this sort, 
the instinctive principle always leads us astray; for the analogical 
anticipations which it disposes us to form, although they may not 
stand the test of a rigorous examination, may yet be sufficiently 
just for all the common purposes of life. It is natural, for example, 
that a man who has been educated in Europe should expect, when 
he changes his residence to any of the other quarters of the globe, 
to see heavy bodies fall downwards, and smoke to ascend, agreeably 
to the general laws to which he has been accustomed; and that he 
should take it for granted, in providing the means of his subsistence, 
that the animals and vegetables which he has found to be salutary 
and nutritious in his native regions, possess the same qualities 
wherever they exhibit the same appearances. Nor are such expec¬ 
tations less useful than natural; for they are completely realised, 
as far as they minister to the gratification of our more urgent wants. 
It is only when we begin to indulge our curiosity with respect to 
those nicer details which derive their interest from great refinement 
in the arts, or from a very advanced state of physical knowledge, 
that we discover our first conclusions, however just in the main, 
not to be mathematically exact; and are led by those habits which 
scientific pursuits communicate, to investigate the difference of 

* See Reid’s Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap. vi. sect. 24. Campbell’s Disser¬ 
tation on Miracles, part i. sect. i. Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments, vol. ii. 
p. 382, sixth edition. 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


408 


circumstances to which the variety in the result is owing. After 
having found that heavy bodies fall downwards at the equator as 
they do in this island, the most obvious, and, perhaps, on a super¬ 
ficial view of the question, the most reasonable inference would be, 
that the same pendulum which swings seconds at London, will 
vibrate at the same rate under the line. In this instance, however, 
the theoretical inference is contradicted by the fact;—but the con¬ 
tradiction is attended with no practical inconvenience to the multi¬ 
tude, while, in the mind of the philosopher, it only serves to awaken 
his attention to the different circumstances of the two cases, and, in 
the last result, throws a new lustre on the simplicity and uniformity 
of that law, from which it seemed, at first sight, an anomalous 
deviation. 

[To this uniformity in the laws which regulate the order of phy¬ 
sical events, there is something extremely similar in the systematical 
regularity (subject indeed to many exceptions) which, in every 
language, however imperfect, runs through the different classes of 
its ivords, in respect of their inflexions, forms of derivation, and 
other verbal filiations or affinities.] How much this regularity or 
analogy (as it is called by grammarians), contributes to facilitate the 
acquisition of dead and foreign languages, every person who has 
received a liberal education knows from his own experience. Nor 
is it less manifest, that the same circumstance must contribute 
powerfully to aid the memories of children in learning to speak 
their mother-tongue. It is not my present business to trace the 
principles in the human mind by which it is produced. All that 
I would remark is, the very early period at which it is seized by 
children, as is strongly evinced by their disposition to push it a 
great deal too far, in their first attempts towards speech. This dis¬ 
position seems to be closely connected with that which leads them 
to repose faith in testimony; and it also bears a striking resem¬ 
blance to that which prompts them to extend their past experience 
to those objects and events of which they have not hitherto had 
any means of acquiring a direct knowledge. It is probable, indeed, 
that our expectation, in all these cases, has its origin in the same 
common principles of our nature; and it is certain that, in all of 
them, it is subservient to the important purpose of facilitating the 
progress of the mind. Of this nobody can doubt, who considers for 
a moment, that the great end to be first accomplished was mani¬ 
festly the communication of the general rule; the acquisition of the 
exceptions (a knowledge of which is but of secondary importance), 
being safely entrusted to the growing diligence and capacity of the 
learner. 

[The considerations now stated, may help us to conceive in what 
manner conclusions derived from experience come to be insensibly 
extended from the individual to the species; partly in consequence 
of the gross and undistinguishing nature of our first perceptions, 
and partly in consequence of the magical influence of a common 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 409 

name. They seem also to show, that this natural process of thought, 
though not always justified by a sound logic, is not without its use 
in the infancy of human knowledge.] 

In the various cases which have been hitherto under our review, 
our conclusions are said in popular, and even in philosophical 
language, to be founded on experience. And yet the truth un¬ 
questionably is, (as was formerly observed,) that the evidence of 
experience reaches no farther than to an anticipation of the future 
from the past, in instances where the same cause continues to operate 
in circumstances exactly similar. How much this vagueness of 
expression must contribute to mislead us in many of our judgments, 
will afterwards appear. 

The observations which I have to offer upon analogy, considered 
as a ground of scientific conjecture and reasoning, will be introduced 
with more propriety in a future chapter. 

IV. Evidence of Testimony tacitly recognised as a ground of Belief 
in our most certain conclusions concerning Contingent Truths. — Differ¬ 
ence between the Logical and the Popular Meaning of the word Proba¬ 
bility. —In some of the conclusions which have been already under 
our consideration with respect to contingent truths, a species of 
evidence is admitted, of which no mention has hitherto been made; 
I mean the evidence of testimony. In astronomical calculations, 
for example, how few are the instances in which the data rest on 
the evidence of our own senses ! and yet pur confidence in the 
result is not, on that account, in the smallest degree weakened. On 
the contrary, what certainty can be more complete than that with 
which we look forward to an eclipse of the sun or the moon, on 
the faith of elements and of computations which we have never 
verified, and for the accuracy of which we have no ground of 
assurance whatever, but the scientific reputation of the writers from 
whom we have borrowed them ? An astronomer who should affect 
any scepticism with respect to an event so predicted, would render 
• himself no less an object of ridicule, than if he were disposed to 
cavil about the certainty of the sun’s rising to-morrow. 

Even in pure mathematics, a similar regard to testimony, accom¬ 
panied with a similar faith in the faculties of others, is by no means 
uncommon. Who would scruple, in a geometrical investigation, 
to adopt, as a link in the chain, a theorem of Appollonius or of 
Archimedes, although he might not have leisure at the moment to 
satisfy himself, by an actual examination of their demonstrations, 
that they had been guilty of no paralogism, either from accident 
or design, in the course of their reasonings ? 

In our anticipations of astronomical phenomena, as well as in 
those which we form concerning the result of any familiar experi¬ 
ment in physics, philosophers are accustomed to speak of the event 
as only probable, although our confidence in its happening is not 
less complete than if it rested on the basis of mathematical demon¬ 
stration. The word probable, therefore, when thus used, does not 


410 


PART II. 


CHAP. V. 


imply any deficiency in the proof, but only marks the particular 
nature of that proof, as contradistinguished from another species 
of evidence. It is opposed, not to what is certain, but to what 
admits of being demonstrated after the manner of mathematicians. 
This differs widely from the meaning annexed to the same word in 
popular discourse; according to which, whatever event is said to 
be probable, is understood to be expected with some degree of 
doubt. As certain as death—as certain as the rising of the sun— 
are proverbial modes of expression in all countries; and they are, 
both of them, borrowed from events which, in philosophical lan¬ 
guage, are only probable or contingent. In like manner, the ex¬ 
istence of the city of Peking, and the reality of Caesar’s assassination, 
which the philosopher classes with probabilities, because they rest 
solely upon the evidence of testimony, are universally classed with 
certainties by the rest of mankind; and in any case but the state¬ 
ment of a logical theory, the application to such truths of the word 
probable, would be justly regarded as an impropriety of speech. 
This difference between the technical meaning of the word proba¬ 
bility, as employed by logicians, and the notion usually attached 
to it in the business of life, together with the erroneous theories 
concerning the nature of demonstration, which I have already 
endeavoured to refute, have led many authors of the highest name, 
in some of the most important arguments which can employ human 
reason, to overlook tjiat irresistible evidence which was placed 
before their eyes, in search of another mode of proof altogether 
unattainable in moral inquiries, and which, if it could be attained, 
would not be less liable to the cavils of sceptics. 

But although, in philosophical language, the epithet probable be 
applied to events which are acknowledged to be certain, it is also 
applied to those events which are called probable by the vulgar. 
The philosophical meaning of the word, therefore, is more compre¬ 
hensive than the popular : the former denoting that particular 
species of evidence of which contingent truths admit; the latter * 
being confined to such degrees of this evidence as fall short of the 
highest. These different degrees of probability the philosopher 
considers as a series, beginning with bare possibility, and terminat¬ 
ing in that apprehended infallibility with which the phrase moral 
certainty is synonymous. To this last term of the series the word 
probable is, in its ordinary acceptation, plainly inapplicable. 

The satisfaction which the astronomer derives from the exact 
coincidence, in point of time, between his theoretical predictions 
concerning the phenomena of the heavens, and the corresponding 
events when they actually occur, does not imply the smallest doubt, 
on his part, of the constancy of the laws of nature. It resolves 
partly into the pleasure of arriving at the knowledge of the same 
truth or of the same fact by different media; but chiefly into the 
gratifying assurance which he thus receives, of the correctness of 
his principles, and of the competency of the human faculties to 


REASONINGS CONCERNING PROBABLE OR CONTINGENT TRUTHS. 411 

these sublime investigations. What exquisite delight must La 
Place have felt, when, by deducing from the theory of gravitation, 
the cause of the acceleration of the moon’s mean motion—an acce¬ 
leration which proceeds at the rate of little more than 11" in a 
century—he accounted, with such mathematical precision, for all 
the recorded observations of her place from the infancy of astrono¬ 
mical science ! It is from the length and abstruseness, however, of 
the reasoning process, and from the powerful effect produced on 
the imagination, by a calculus which brings into immediate contrast 
with the immensity of time, such evanescent elements as the frac¬ 
tional parts of a second, that the coincidence between the computa¬ 
tion and the event appears in this instance so peculiarly striking. 
In other respects, our Confidence in the future result rests on the 
same principle with our expectation that the sun will rise to-morrow 
at a particular instant; and, accordingly, now that the correctness 
of the theory has been so wonderfully verified by a comparison 
with facts, the one event is expected with no less assurance than 
the other. 

With respect to those inferior degrees of probability to which, in 
common discourse, the meaning of that word is exclusively confined, 
it is not my intention to enter into any discussions. The subject 
is of so great extent, that I could not hope to throw upon it any 
lights satisfactory either to my reader or to myself, without 
encroaching upon the space destined for inquiries more intimately 
connected with the theory of our reasoning powers. One set of 
questions, too, arising out of it,—I mean those to which mathemati¬ 
cal calculations have been applied by the ingenuity of the moderns, 
—involve some very puzzling metaphysical difficulties,* the con¬ 
sideration of which would completely interrupt the train of our 
present speculations. I proceed, therefore, in continuation of those 
in which we have been lately engaged, to treat of other topics of a 
more general nature, tending to illustrate the logical procedure of 
the mind in the discovery of scientific truth. As an introduction 
to these, I propose to devote one whole chapter to some miscella¬ 
neous strictures and reflections on the logic of the schools. 


CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 

I. Of the Demonstrations of the Syllogistic Rules given by Aristotle 
and his Commentators .— The great variety of speculations which, in 
the present state of science, the Aristotelian logic naturally suggests 
to a philosophical inquirer, lays me, in this chapter, under the 
necessity of selecting a few leading questions, bearing immediately 
upon the particular objects which I have in view. In treating of 

* I allude more particularly to the doubts started on this subject by D’Alembert, in 
his Opuscules Matliematiques ; and in his Melanges de Litterature. 



412 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


these, I must, of course, suppose my readers to possess some pre¬ 
vious acquaintance with the subject t'o which they relate ; but it is 
only such a general knowledge of its outlines and phraseology, as, 
in all universities, is justly considered as an essential accomplish¬ 
ment to those who receive a liberal education. 

I begin with examining the pretensions of the Aristotelian logic 
to that pre-eminent rank which it claims among the sciences; pro¬ 
fessing, not only to rest all its conclusions on the immoveable basis 
of demonstration, but to have reared this mighty fabric on the nar¬ 
row ground-work of a single axiom. “ On the basis,” says the 
latest of his commentators, “ of one simple truth, Aristotle has 
reared a lofty and various structure of abstract science, clearly ex¬ 
pressed and fully demonstrated.” (Analysis of Aristotle’s Works, 
by Dr. Gillies, vol. i. p. 83, 2nd edit.) Nor have these claims been 
disputed by mathematicians themselves. “ In logica,” says Dr. 
Wallis, “ structura syllogismi demonstration nititur pure mathema¬ 
tical’ * And, in another passage: " Sequitur institutio logica, 
communi usui accommodata.—Quo videant tirones, syllogismorum 
leges strictissimis demonstrationibus plane mathematicis ita fundatas, 
ut consequentias habeant irrefragabiles, quaeque offuciis fallaciisque 
detegendis sint accommodate.” f (Preface to the same volume.) 
Dr. Reid, too, although he cannot be justly charged, on the whole, 
with any undue reverence for the authority of Aristotle, has yet, 
upon one occasion, spoken of his demonstrations with much more 
respect than they appear to me entitled to. “ I believe,” says he, 
“ it will be difficult, in any science, to find so large a system of 
truths of so very abstract and so general a nature, all fortified by 
demonstration, and all invented and perfected by one man. It 
shows a force of genius, and labour of investigation, equal to the 
most arduous attempts.” (Analysis of Aristotle’s Logic, J Reid’s 
Works, vol. ii. 8vo edit. London, 1843.) 

As the fact which is so confidently assumed in these passages 
would, if admitted, completely overturn all I have hitherto said 
concerning the nature both of axioms and of demonstrative evi¬ 
dence, the observations which follow seem to form a necessary 
sequel to some of the preceding discussions. I acknowledge, at the 
same time, that my chief motive for introducing them, was a wish 
to counteract the effect of those triumphant panegyrics upon Aris- 

* See the Monitum p re fled to the Miscellaneous Treatises annexed to the third 
volume ef Dr. Wallis’s Mathematical works. 

f “ In logic, the conclusiveness of the syllogism depends on strict mathematical 
demonstration....There follows an introduction to logic suited for general use. So that 
beginners may perceive that the miles of syllogism are in such a manner based on the 
strictest mathematical demonstrations, that they have irrefragable conclusiveness 
which is adapted for detecting delusions and fallacies.” 

t That Dr. Reid, however, was perfectly aware that these demonstrations are more 
specious than solid, may be safely inferred from a sentence which afterwards occurs in 
the same tract. “ When we go without the circle of the mathematical sciences, I know 
nothing in which there seems to be so much demonstration as in that part of logic which 
treats of the figures and modes of syllogisms.” 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


413 


totle’s Organon, which of late have been pronounced by some 
writers, whose talents and learning justly add much weight to their 
literary opinions; and an anxiety to guard the rising generation 
against a waste of time and attention, upon a study so little fitted, 
in my judgment, to reward their labour. 

[The first remark which I have to offer upon Aristotle’s demon¬ 
strations is, that they proceed on the obviously false supposition of 
its being passible to add to the conclusiveness and authority of 
demonstrative evidence. One of the most remarkable circum¬ 
stances which distinguishes this from that species of evidence which 
is commonly called moral or probable is, that it is not susceptible of 
degrees ; the process of reasoning of which it is the result, being 
either good for nothing, or so perfect and complete in itself, as not 
to admit of support from any adventitious aid.] Every such process 
of reasoning, it is well known, may be resolved into a series of legi¬ 
timate syllogisms, exhibiting separately and distinctly, in a light as 
clear and strong as language can afford, each successive link of the 
demonstration. How far this conduces to render the demonstration 
more convincing than it was before, is not now the question. Some 
doubts may reasonably be entertained upon this head, when it is 
considered that, among the various expedients employed by 
mathematical teachers to assist the apprehension of their pupils, 
none of them have ever thought of resolving a demonstration, as 
may always be easily done, into the syllogisms of which it is com¬ 
posed.* But, abstracting altogether from this consideration, and 
granting that a demonstration may he rendered more manifest and 
satisfactory by being syllogistically stated; upon what principle 
can it be supposed possible, after the demonstration has been thus 
analysed and expanded, to enforce and corroborate, by any subsi¬ 
diary reasoning, that irresistible conviction which demonstration 
necessarily commands ? 

It furnishes no valid reply to this objection, to allege that mathe¬ 
maticians often employ themselves in inventing different demonstra¬ 
tions of the same theorem; for, in such instances, their attempts 

* From a passage indeed in a memoir by Leibnitz, printed in the sixth volume of the 
Acta Eruditorum, it would seem that a commentary of this kind, on the first six books 
of Euclid, had been actually carried into execution by two writers, whose names he 
mentions. rt Firma autem demonstrate est, quse prsescriptam a logica formam servat, 
non quasi semper ordinatis scholarum more syllogismis opus sit (quales Christianus 
Herlinus et Conradus Dasypodius in sex priores Euclidis libros exhibuerunt) sed ita 
saltern ut argumentatio concludat vi forme,” &c. &c. Acta Eruditor. Lips. vol. i. 
p. 285. Venet. 1740. 

[The sound demonstration is that which has the form prescribed by logic ; not, how. 
ever, that the technical forms of syllogisms as used in the schools are indispensable (in 
the way that Christian Herlinus and Conrad Dasypodius have laid them down with 
respect to the first six books of Euclid); but so at least that the argument should have 
the conclusiveness of those forms.—Transactions of the Learned.] 

I have not seen either of the works alluded to in the above sentence ; and upon less 
respectable authority should scarcely have conceived it to be credible that any person 
capable of understanding Euclid had ever seriously engaged in such an undertaking. 
It would have been difficult to devise a more effectual expedient for exposing to the 
meanest understanding the futility of the syllogistic theory. 


414 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


do not proceed from any anxiety to swell the mass of evidence, by 
finding (as in some other sciences) a variety of collateral arguments 
all bearing, with their combined force, on the same truth;—their 
only wish is, to discover the easiest and shortest road by which the 
truth may be reached. In point of simplicity, and of what geome¬ 
ters call elegance, these various demonstrations may differ widely 
from each other ; but in point of sound logic they are all precisely 
on the same footing. Each of them shines with its own intrinsic 
light alone ; and the first which occurs (provided they be all equally 
understood) commands the assent not less irresistibly than the last. 

The idea, however, on which Aristotle proceeded, in attempting 
to fortify one demonstration by another, bears no analogy whatever 
to the practice of mathematicians in multiplying proofs of the same 
theorem: nor can it derive the slightest countenance from their 
example. His object was not to teach us how to demonstrate the 
same thing in a variety of different ways; but to demonstrate, by 
abstract reasoning, the conclusiveness of demonstration. By what 
means he set about the accomplishment of his purpose will -after¬ 
wards appear. At present, I speak only of his design; which, if 
the foregoing remarks be just, it will not be easy to reconcile with 
correct views, either concerning the nature of evidence or the 
theory of the human understanding. 

Eor the sake of those who have not previously turned their atten¬ 
tion to Aristotle’s Logic, it is necessary, before proceeding farther, 
to take notice of a peculiarity, (and, as appears to me, an impro¬ 
priety,) in the use which he makes of the epithets demonstrative 
and dialectical, to mark the distinction between the two great 
classes into which he divides syllogisms ; a mode of speaking which, 
according to the common use of language, would seem to imply 
that one species of syllogisms may be more conclusive and cogent 
than another. That this is not the case is almost self-evident; for 
if a syllogism be perfect in form, it must, of necessity, be not only 
conclusive but demonstratively conclusive. Nor is this, in fact, the 
idea which Aristotle himself annexed to the distinction; for he 
tells us that it does not refer to the form of syllogisms, but to their 
matter ;—or, in plainer language, to the degree of evidence accom¬ 
panying the premises on which they proceed.* In the two hooks 

* To the same purpose also Dr. Wallis : “ Syllogismus Topicus, (qui et Dialectics 
dici solet) talis haberi solet syllogismus (seu syllogismorum series) qui firmam potius 
prsesumptionem, seu opinionem valde probabilem creat, quam absolutam certitudinem. 
Non quidem ratione Formae, (nam syllogismi omnes, si in justa forma, sunt demonstra- 
tivi; hoc est, si praemissre verse sint, vera erit et conclusio,) sed ratione materise, seu 
Prsemissarum ; quae ipsae, utplurimum, non sunt absolute certse, et universaliter verse; 
sed saltern probabiles, atque utplurimum verse.”—Wallis, Logica, lib. iii. cap. 23. 

[The topical syllogism, which is also called the dialectical, is considered to be such a 
syllogism, or series of syllogisms, as rather produces strong presumption, or great 
probability, than absolute certainty ; not indeed as regards the form (for all syllogisms, 
if in legitimate form, are demonstrative ; that is, if the premises be true, the conclusion 
will be true) ; but as regards the matter or premises, which, for the most part, are not 
absolutely certain, and universally true, but at least probable, and for the most part 
true.] 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


415 

of his last Analytics, accordingly he treats of syllogisms, which are 
said to be demonstrative, because their premises are certain; and in 
his Topics, of what he calls dialectical syllogisms, because their 
premises are only probable. Would it not have been a clearer and 
juster mode of stating this distinction, to have applied the epithets 
demonstrative and dialectical to the truth of the conclusions 
resulting from these two classes of syllogisms, instead of applying 
them to the syllogisms themselves ? The phrase demonstrative 
syllogism certainly seems, at first sight, to express rather the com¬ 
plete and necessary connexion between the conclusion and the pre¬ 
mises, than the certainty or the necessity of the truths which the 
premises assume. 

To this observation it may be added, in order to prevent any 
misapprehensions from the ambiguity of language, that Aristotle’s 
idea of the nature of demonstration is essentially different from 
that which I have already endeavoured to explain. “ In all demon¬ 
stration,” says Dr. Gillies, who, in this instance, has very accurately 
and clearly stated his author’s doctrine, “ the first principles must 
be necessary, immutable, and therefore eternal truths, because those 
qualities could not belong to the conclusion, unless they belonged to 
the premises, which are its causes.” (Aristotle’s Ethics and Politics, 
&c. By Dr. Gillies, vol. i. p. 96.*) According to the account of 
demonstrative or mathematical evidence formerly given, the first 
principles on which it rests are not eternal and immutable truths, 
but definitions or hypotheses ; and therefore, if the epithet demon¬ 
strative be understood, in our present argument, as descriptive of 
that peculiar kind of evidence which belongs to mathematics, the 
distinction between demonstrative and dialectical syllogisms is 
reduced to this ; that in the former, where all that is asserted is the 
necessary connexion between the conclusion and the premises, 
neither the one nor the other of these can with propriety be said to 
be either true or false, because both of them are entirely hypo¬ 
thetical: in the latter, where the premises are meant to express 
truths or facts, supported on the most favourable supposition, by 

* I am much at a loss how to reconcile this account of demonstrative evidence with 
the view which is given by Dr. Gillies of the nature of syllogism, and of the principles 
on which the syllogistic theory is founded. In one passage (p. 81), he tells us, that 
“ Aristotle invented the syllogism, to prevent imposition arising from the abuse of 
words in a second (p. 83), that “ the simple truth on which Aristotle has reared a 
lofty and various structure of abstract science, clearly expressed and fully demonstrated, 
is itself founded in the natural and universal texture of language: ” in a third, 
(p. 86), that “ the doctrines of Aristotle’s Organon have been strangely perplexed by 
confounding the grammatical principles on which that work is built with mathematical 
axioms.” Is it possible to suppose that Aristotle could have ever thought of applying 
to mere grammatical principles—to truths founded in the natural and universal texture 
of language—the epithets of necessary, immutable, and eternal ? 

I am unwilling to lengthen this note, otherwise it might be easily shown how utterly 
irreconcilable, in the present instance, are the glosses of this ingenious commentator 
with the text of his author. Into some of these glosses it is probable that he lias been 
unconsciously betrayed, by his anxiety to establish the claim of his favourite philoso¬ 
pher to the important speculations of Locke on the abuse of words, and to those of 
some later writers on language considered as an instrument of thought. 


416 


PART ir. 


CHAP. VI. 


a very high degree of probability, the conclusion must necessarily 
partake of that uncertainty in which the premises are involved. 

[But what I am chiefly anxious at present to impress on the minds 
of my readers is the substance of the two following propositions: 
First, That dialectical syllogisms (provided they be not sophistical) 
are not less demonstratively conclusive, so far as the process of 
reasoning is cqncerned, than those to which this latter epithet is 
restricted by Aristotle ; and, secondly , that it is to the process of 
reasoning alone, and not to the premises on which it proceeds, that 
Aristotle’s demonstrations exclusively refer.] The sole object, 
therefore, of these demonstrations is (as I already remarked) not to 
strengthen, by new proofs, principles which were doubtful, or to 
supply new links to a chain of reasoning which was imperfect, but 
to confirm one set of demonstrations by means of another. The 
mistakes into which some of my readers might have been led by the 
contrast which Aristotle’s language implies between dialectical syl¬ 
logisms, and those which he honours with the title of demonstrative, 
will, I trust, furnish a sufficient apology for the length of this 
explanation. 

Having enlarged so fully on the professed aim of Aristotle*s de¬ 
monstrations , I shall despatch, in a very few pages, what I have to 
offer on the manner in which he has carried his design into effect. 
If the design be as unphilosophical as I have endeavoured to show 
that it is, the apparatus contrived for its execution can be con¬ 
sidered in no other light than as an object of literary curiosity. 
A process of reasoning which pretends to demonstrate the legi¬ 
timacy of a conclusion which, of itself, by its own intrinsic evidence, 
irresistibly commands the assent, must, we may be perfectly as¬ 
sured, be at bottom unsubstantial and illusory, how specious soever 
it may at first sight appear. Supposing all its inferences to be 
strictly just, it can only bring us round again to the point from 
whence we set out. 

The very acute strictures of Dr. Reid, in his analysis of Aris¬ 
totle’s logic, on this part of the syllogistic theory, render it super¬ 
fluous for me, on the present occasion, to enter into any details 
upon the subject. To this small, but valuable tract, therefore, 

I beg leave to refer my readers; contenting myself with a short 
extract, which contains a general and compendious view of the 
conclusion drawn, and of the argument used to prove it, in each 
of the three figures of syllogisms. 

“ In the first figure, the conclusion affirms or denies something 
of a certain species or individual; and the argument to prove this 
conclusion is, that the same thing may be affirmed or denied of the 
whole genus to which that species or individual belongs. 

“ In the second figure, the conclusion is, that some species or 
individual does not belong to such a genus; and the argument is, 
that some attribute common to the whole genus does not belong to 
that species or individual. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


417 

“ In the third figure, the conclusion is, that such an attribute 
belongs to part of a genus ; and the argument is, That the attribute 
in question belongs to a species or individual which is part of that 
genus. 

“ I apprehend that, in this short view, every conclusion that falls 
within the compass of the three figures, as well as the mean of 
proof, is comprehended. The rules of all the figures might be 
easily deduced from it; and it appears that there is only one prin¬ 
ciple of reasoning in all the three; so that it is not strange that a 
syllogism of one figure should be reduced to one of another figure. 

“ The general principle in which the whole terminates, and of 
which every categorical syllogism is only a particular application, 
is this, that what is affirmed or denied of the whole genus may be 
affirmed or denied of every species and individual belonging to it. 
This is a principle of undoubted certainty indeed, but of no great 
depth. Aristotle and all the logicians assume it as an axiom, or 
first principle, from which the syllogistic system, as it were, takes 
its departure ; and after a tedious voyage, and great expense of 
demonstration, it lands at last in this principle, as its ultimate con¬ 
clusion. f O curas hominum ! O quantum est in rebus inane !’ ” # 

When we compare this mockery of science with the unrivalled 
powers of the inventor, it is scarcely possible to avoid suspecting, 
that he was anxious to conceal its real poverty and nakedness 
under the veil of the abstract language in which it was exhibited. 
It is observed by the author last quoted, that Aristotle hardly ever 
gives examples of real syllogisms to illustrate his rules ; and that 
his commentators, by endeavouring to supply this defect, have only 
brought into contempt the theory of their master. ‘ le W e acknow¬ 
ledge,” says he, “ that this was charitably done, in order to assist 
the conception in matters so very abstract; but whether it was 
prudently done, for the honour of the art, may be doubted.” One 
thing is certain, that when we translate any of Aristotle’s demon¬ 
strations from the general and enigmatical language in which he 
states it, into more familiar and intelligible terms, by applying it to a 
particular example, the mystery at once disappears, and resolves 
into some self-evident or identical puerility. It is surely a strange 
mode of proof, which would establish the truth of what is obvious, 
and what was never doubted of, by means of an argument which 
appears quite unintelligible till explained and illustrated by an 
instance perfectly similar to the very thing to be proved. 

“ If A (says Aristotle) is attributed to every B, and B to every 
C, it follows necessarily, that A may be attributed to every C.”f— 

* “Alas ! the cares of men; alas ! how much vanity is there in things.” This axiom 
is called, in scholastic language, the “ dictum de omni et de nullo.” 

•f* It is obvious, that Aristotle’s symbolical demonstrations might be easily thrown 
into the form of symbolical syllogisms. The circumstance which induced him to prefer 
the former mode of statement, was probably that he might avoid the appearance of 
reasoning in a circle, by employing the syllogistic theory to demonstrate itself. It is 
curious how it should have escaped him, that, in attempting to shun this fallacy, he 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


418 


(Analyt. Prior, cap. iv.) Such is the demonstration given of the 
first mode of the first figure; and it is obviously nothing more 
than the axiom called the (< dictum de omni,” concealed under the 
disguise of an uncouth and cabalistical phraseology. The demon¬ 
strations given of the other legitimate modes are all of the same 
description. 

In disproving the illegitimate modes, he proceeds after a similar 
manner ; condescending, however, in general, to supply us, by way 
of example, with three term’s, such as bonum, habitus, prudentia, 
album, equus, cygnus ;—which three terms, we are left, for our 
own satisfaction, to form into illegitimate syllogisms of the parti¬ 
cular figure and mode which may be under consideration. The 
manifest inconclusiveness of every such syllogism, he seems to have 
thought, might assist readers of slower apprehension in perceiving 
more easily the import of the general proposition. The inconclu¬ 
siveness, for instance, of those modes of the first figure, in which 
the major is particular, is thus stated and explained:—“ If A is or 
is not in some B, and B in every C, no conclusion follows. Take 
for the terms in the affirmative case, good, habit, prudence ; in the 
negative, good, habit, ignorance.”—(Analyt. Prior, cap. iv.)—With 
respect to such passages as this, Dr. Reid has perfectly expressed 
my feeling, when he says, that “ the laconic style of the author, 
the use of symbols not familiar, and, in place of giving an example, 
his leaving us to form one from three assigned terms, give such 
embarrassment to a reader, that he is like one reading a book of 
riddles.”* Can it be reasonably supposed, that so great an ob¬ 
scurity in such a writer was not the effect of some systematical 
design ? 

From the various considerations already stated, I might perhaps, 
without proceeding farther, be entitled to conclude, that Aristotle’s 
demonstrations amount to nothing more than to a specious and im¬ 
posing parade of words; but the innumerable testimonies to their 
validity, from the highest names, and the admiration in which they 
continue to be held by men of distinguished learning, render it 
necessary for me, before dismissing the subject, to unfold a little 
more completely some parts of the foregoing argument. 

It may probably appear to some of my readers superfluous to re¬ 
mark, after the above-cited specimens of the reasonings in question, 
that not one of these demonstrations ever carry the mind forward, 
a single step, from one truth to another; but merely from a general 
axiom to some of its particular exemplifications ; nor is this all; 
they carry the mind in a direction opposite to that in which its 


had fallen into another exactly of the same description ;—that of employing an argu¬ 
ment in the common form to demonstrate the legitimacy of syllogisms, after having 
represented a syllogistic analysis as the only infallible test of the legitimacy of a 
demonstration. 

* Dr. Gillies has attempted a vindication of the use which Aristotle, in his demon¬ 
strations, has made of the letters of the alphabet. For some remarks on this attempt, 
see note i 1 . 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


419 


judgments are necessarily formed. The meaning of a general 
axiom, it is well known, is seldom if ever intelligible, till it has 
been illustrated by some example; whereas Aristotle, in all his 
demonstrations, proceeds on the idea, that the truth of an axiom, 
in particular instances, is a logical consequence of its truth, as 
enunciated in general terms. Into this mistake, it must be owned, 
he was not unnaturally led by the place which is assigned to 
axioms at the beginning of the elements of geometry, and by the 
manner in which they are afterwards referred to in demonstrating 
the propositions. “ Since A (it is said) is equal to B, and B to C, 
A is equal to C; for, things which are equal to one and the same 
thing, are equal to one another.” This place, I have little doubt, 
has been occupied by mathematical axioms, as far back, at least, 
as the foundation of the Pythagorean school; and Aristotle’s fun¬ 
damental axiom will be found to be precisely of the same descrip¬ 
tion. Instead, therefore, of saying, with Dr. Gillies, that “ on the 
basis of one single truth Aristotle has reared a lofty and various 
structure of abstract science,”—it would be more correct to say, 
that the whole of this science is comprised or implied in the terms 
of one single axiom. Nor must it be forgotten (if we are to retain 
Dr. Gillies’s metaphor) that the structure may, with much more 
propriety, be considered as the basis of the axiom, than the axiom 
of the structure. 

When it is recollected that the greater part of our best philoso¬ 
phers (and among the rest Dr. Reid) still 'persevere , after all that 
Locke has urged on the opposite side of the question, in considering 
axioms as the groundwork of mathematical science , it will not appear 
surprising that Aristotle’s demonstrations should have so long con¬ 
tinued to maintain their ground in books of logic. That this idea 
is altogether erroneous, in so far as mathematics is concerned, has 
been already sufficiently shown; the whole of that science resting 
ultimately, not on axioms, but on definitions or hypotheses. By 
those who have examined my reasonings on this last point, and who 
take the pains to combine them with the foregoing remarks, I trust 
it will be readily allowed, that the syllogistic theory furnishes no 
exception to the general doctrine concerning demonstrative evi¬ 
dence, which I formerly endeavoured to establish; its pretended 
demonstrations being altogether nugatory, and terminating at last 
(as must be the case with every process of thought involving no 
data but what are purely axiomatical) in the very proposition from 
which they originally set out. 

[The idea that all demonstrative science must rest ultimately on 
axioms, has been borrowed, with many other erroneous maxims , from 
the logic of Aristotle; but is now, in general, stated in a manner 
much more consistent (although perhaps not nearer to the truth) 
than in the works of that philosopher.] According to Dr. Reid, 
the degree of evidence which accompanies our conclusions, is ne¬ 
cessarily determined by the degree of evidence which accompanies 

E E 2 


PART IT. 


CHAP. VI. 


420 


our first principles; so that, if the latter be only probable, it is 
perfectly impossible that tfie former should be certain. Agreeing, 
therefore, with Aristotle, in considering axioms as the basis of all 
demonstrative science, he was led, at the same time, in conformity 
with the doctrine just mentioned, to consider them as eternal and 
immutable truths, which are perceived to be such by an intuitive 
judgment of the understanding. This, however, is not the lan¬ 
guage of Aristotle ; for, while he tells us, that there is no demon¬ 
stration but of eternal truths,* he asserts, that the first principles 
which are the foundation of all demonstration, are got by induction 
from the informations of sense.f In what manner this apparent 
contradiction is to be reconciled, I leave to the consideration of his 
future commentators. 

For my own part, I cannot help being of opinion with Lord 
Monboddo (who certainly was not wanting in a due respect for the 
authority of Aristotle), that the syllogistic theory would have ac¬ 
corded much better with the doctrine of Plato concerning general 
ideas, than with that held on the same subject by the founder of 
the Peripatetic school. (Ancient Metaphysics, vol. v. pp. 184, 
185.) To maintain that, in all demonstration, we argue from gene¬ 
rals to particulars, and, at the same time, to assert, that the neces¬ 
sary progress of our knowledge is from particulars to generals, by 
a gradual induction from the informations of sense, do not appear, 
to an ordinary understanding, to be very congruous parts of the 
same system; J and yet the last of these tenets has been eagerly 


* $avepov Se teat, eav axriv ai irpoTaaeis KadoXov e| wv 6 (Tv\\oyurp.os, on avaynr) kcu 
to Gvpmepaap.a a'iSiov eivai ttjs T0iavT7]S anoSeil-eas, kcu ttjs (airhoc s eineiv) a7roSet|ews* 
ovk ecTiv apa anode i£is tcov epdaproev, ovS 5 emarr]p.r] anXus, aAA 5 ovtws , axrnep Kara (TVfxfie- 
&T)kos. Analyt. Post. lib. i. cap. viii. [It is also clear that, if the propositions consti¬ 
tuting the syllogism be universal, it is necessary that the conclusion of such a demon¬ 
stration, and, to speak plainly, of the demonstration itself, must be eternal. It is not 
therefore the demonstration of unstable things, nor knowledge absolutely, but as if 
by accident.] 

+ E k p.ev ovv atarOrjaews yiyverai p.vr\p.r}' eK Se p.vr)p.t]s noWaKis too avrov yivop.evi)s, 
efineipia’ cu yap noWai p.vr)p.ai rep apidpup, ep.neipia pua eernv’ eK 8’ epneipias t] e/c navTos 
T]pe/u.T](TavTos rov KaOoXov ev rr? ip v XV’ T0V * vos 7ra P a Ta ^oWa, 6 av ev anaaiv ev evrj eKeivois 
to avTo, TexvT)S apxv Kcu e'KKTT7)p.r)S' eav p.ev nepi yeveaiv, Texvr}S' eav Se nepi to ov, 
67 Ti(TTr]p.T]s. (Analyt. Post. lib. ii. cap. xix.) [From sensation, therefore, arises 
memory ; but from the memory of the same thing frequently expended, experience; for 
several recollections constitute one experience. But from experience, or from all, 
and universality resting in the mind, to wit, from one, according to many, which is 
one and the same, in them originate art and knowledge : art, if the question be about 
production; knowledge, if it be about existence.] The whole chapter may be read with 
advantage by those who wish for a fuller explanation of Aristotle’s opinion on this 
question. His illustration of the intellectual process by which general principles are 
obtained from the perceptions of sense, and from reiterated acts of memory resolving 
into one experience, is more particularly deserving of attention. 

J It may perhaps be asked, Is not this the very mode of philosophizing recommended 
by Bacon, first, to proceed analytically from particulars to generals, and then to reason 
synthetically from generals to particulars ? My reply to this question (a question 
which will not puzzle any person at all acquainted with the subject) I must delay, till 
I shall have an opportunity, in the progress of my work, of pointing out the essential 
difference between the meanings annexed to the word induction, in the Aristotelian, 
and in the Baconian logic.—Upon the present occasion, it is sufficient to observe, that 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


421 


claimed as a discovery of Aristotle, by some of the most zealous 
admirers of his logical demonstrations. (See Dr. Gillies’ Analysis 
of Aristotle’s works, passim.)* 

In this point of view, Lord Monboddo has certainly conducted, 
with greater skill, his defence of the syllogistic theory; inasmuch 
as he has entirely abandoned the important conclusions of Aristotle 
concerning the natural progress of human knowledge, and has 
attempted to entrench himself in (what was long considered as one 
of the most inaccessible fastnesses of the Platonic philosophy) the 
very ancient theory, which ascribes to general ideas an existence 
necessary and eternal. Had he, upon this occasion, after the ex¬ 
ample of Aristotle, confined himself solely to abstract principles, it 
might not have been an easy task to refute, to the satisfaction of 
common readers, his metaphysical arguments. Fortunately, how¬ 
ever, he has favoured us with some examples and illustrations, 
which render this undertaking quite unnecessary; and which, in 
my opinion, have given to the cause which he was anxious to sup¬ 
port, one of the most deadly blows which it has ever received. The 
following panegyric, in particular, on the utility of logic, while it 
serves to show that, in admiration of the Aristotelian demonstra¬ 
tions, he did not yield to Dr. Gillies, forms precisely such a com¬ 
ment as I myself could have wished for, on the leading propositions 
which I have now been attempting to establish. 

“ In proof of the utility of logic,” says Lord Monboddo, “ I will 

Bacon’s plan of investigation was never supposed to be applicable to the discovery of 
principles which are necessary and eternal. 

* In this learned, and on the whole very instructive performance, I find several 
doctrines ascribed to Aristotle, which appear not a little at variance with each other. 
The following passages (which I am led to select from their connexion with the present 
argument) strike me as not only widely different, but completely contradictory, in 
their import. 

“ According to Aristotle, definitions are the foundations of all science; but those 
fountains are pure only when they originate in an accurate examination and patient 
comparison of the perceptible qualities of individual objects.” Vol. i. p. 77. 

« Demonstrative truth can apply only to those things which necessarily exist after a 
certain manner, and whose state is unalterable : and we know those things when we 
know their causes : thus we know a mathematical proposition when we know the 
causes that make it true ; that is, when we know all the intermediate propositions, up 
to the first principles or axioms, on which it is ultimately built.” Ibid. pp. 95, 96. 

It is almost superfluous to observe, that while the former of these quotations founds 
all demonstrative evidence on definitions, the latter founds it upon axioms. Nor is 
this all. The former, as is manifest from the second clause of the sentence, can refer 
only to contingent truths; inasmuch as the most accurate examination of the percep¬ 
tible qualities of individual objects can never lead to the knowledge of things which 
necessarily exist after a certain manner. The latter as obviously refers, and exclusively 
refers, to truths which resemble mathematical theorems. 

As to Aristotle’s assertion, that definitions are the first principles of all demonstra¬ 
tions ( at apx ai Tuv cwroSetlewv oi dpic/Aoi), it undoubtedly seems, at first view, to coincide 
exactly with the doctrine which I was at so much pains to inculcate, in treating of that 
peculiar evidence which belongs to mathematics. I hope, however, I shall not, on this 
account, be accused of plagiarism, when it is considered, that the commentary upon 
these words, quoted above from Dr. Gillies, absolutely excludes mathematics from the 
number of those sciences to which they are to be applied.—On this pointy too, Aris¬ 
totle’s own language is decisive. E£ avaynaiuv apa (rv\\oyiap.os e<rnv tj cnro8ei£is. 
Analyt. Poster, lib. i. cap. iv. 


422 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


give an example of an argument to prove that man is a substance; 
which argument, put into the syllogistic form, is this : 

Every animal is a substance ; 

Every man is an animal; 

Therefore every man is a substance. 

There is no man, I believe, who is not convinced of the truth 
of the conclusion of this syllogism : but, how he is convinced of 
this, and for what reason he believes it to be true, no man can tell, 
who has not learned, from the logic of Aristotle, to know what a 
proposition and what a syllogism is. There he will learn, that 
every proposition affirms or denies something of some other thing. 
What is affirmed or denied is called the predicate; and that of 
which it is affirmed or denied, is called the subject. The predicate 
being a more general idea than the subject of which it is predicated, 
must contain or include it, if it be an affirmative proposition; or if 
• it be a negative proposition, it must exclude it. This is the nature 
of propositions: and as to syllogism, the use of it is to prove any 
proposition that is not self-evident. And this is done by finding 
out what is called a middle term; that is, a term connected with 
both the predicate and the subject of the proposition to be proved. 
Now, the proposition to be proved here is, that man is a substance ; 
or, in other words, that substance can be predicated of man: and 
the middle term, by which this connexion is discovered, is animal, 
of which substance is predicated; and this is the major proposition 
of the syllogism, by which the major term of the proposition to be 
proved, is predicated of the middle term. Then animal is predi¬ 
cated of man; and this is the minor proposition of the syllogism, 
by which the middle term is predicated of the lesser term, or sub¬ 
ject of the proposition to be proved. The conclusion, therefore, is, 
that as substance contains animal, and man is contained in animal, 
or is part of animal, therefore substance contains man. And the 
conclusion is necessarily deduced from the axiom I have mentioned, 
as the foundation of the truth of the syllogism, ‘ that the whole is 
greater than any of its parts, and contains them all.* So that the 
truth of the syllogism is as evident as when we say, that if A con¬ 
tain B, and B contain C, then A contains C. 

“ In this manner Aristotle has demonstrated the truth of the syl¬ 
logism. But a man, who has not studied his logic, can no more tell 
why he believes the truth of the syllogism above-mentioned, con¬ 
cerning man being a substance, than a joiner, or any common 
mechanic, who applies a foot or a yard to the length of two bodies, 
and finds that both agree exactly to that measure, and are neither 
longer nor shorter, can give a reason why he believes the bodies to 
be equal, not knowing the axiom of Euclid, f that two things, which 
are equal to a third thing, are equal to one another.’ 

“ By this discovery Aristotle has answered the question, which 
Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, asked of our Saviour, what 
truth is ? The answer to which appears now to be so obvious, that 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


423 

I am persuaded Pilate would not have asked it as a question, which 
he no doubt thought very difficult to be answered, if he had not 
studied the logic of Aristotle.” * (Ancient Metaphysics, vol. v. 
pp. 152 —154.) 

After perusing the above exposition of Aristotle’s demonstration, 
the reader, if the subject be altogether new to him, will be apt to 
imagine, that the study of logic is an undertaking of much less 
difficulty than he had been accustomed formerly to apprehend ; the 
whole resolving ultimately into this axiom, “ that if A contains B, 
and B contains C, then A contains C.” In interpreting this axiom, 
he will probably figure to himself A, B, and C, as bearing some 
resemblance to three boxes, the sizes of which are so adapted to 
each other, that B may be literally put into the inside of A, and C 
into the inside of B. Perhaps it may be reasonably doubted, if 
there is one logician in a hundred, who ever dreamed of under¬ 
standing it in any other sense. When considered in this light, it 
is not surprising that it should instantly command the assent of the 
merest novice: nor would he hesitate one moment longer about its 
truth, if, instead of being limited (in conformity to the three terms 
of a syllogism), to the three letters, A, B, C, it were to be extended 
from A to Z; the series of boxes corresponding to the series of 
letters, being all conceived to be nestled, one within another, like 
those which we sometimes see exhibited in the hands of a juggler. 

If the curiosity of the student, however, should lead him to 
inquire a little more accurately into Aristotle’s meaning, he will 
soon have the mortification to learn, that when one thing is said by 
the logician to be in another, or to be contained in another, these 
words are not to be understood in their ordinary and most obvious 
sense, but in a particular and technical sense, known only to adepts; 
and about which, we may remark by the way, adepts are not, to 
this day, unanimously agreed. “ To those,” says Lord Monboddo, 
“ who know no more of logic nor of ancient philosophy than Mr. 
Locke did, it will be necessary to explain in what sense one idea 
can be said to contain another, or the idea less general can be said 

* I have quoted this passage at length, because I consider it as an instructive 
example of the effects likely to be produced on the understanding by scholastic studies, 
where they become a favourite and habitual object of pursuit. The author (whom I 
knew well, and for whose memory I entertain a sincere respect) was a man of no com¬ 
mon mental powers. Besides possessing a rich fund of what is commonly called 
learning, he was distinguished by natural acuteness ; by a more than ordinary share of 
wit ; and, in the discharge of his judicial functions, by the singular correctness, 
gravity, and dignity of his unpremeditated elocution ;—and yet, so completely had his 
faculties been subdued by the vain abstractions and verbal distinctions of the schools, 
that he had brought himself seriously to regard such discussions as that which I have 
here transcribed from his works, not only as containing much excellent sense, but as 
the quintessence of sound philosophy. As for the mathematical and physical disco¬ 
veries of the Newtonians, he held them in comparative contempt, and was probably 
prevented, by this circumstance, from ever proceeding farther than the first elements 
of these sciences. Indeed, his ignorance of both was wonderful, considering the very 
liberal education which lie had received, not only in his own country, but at a foreign 
university. 


424 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


to be a part of the more general. And, in the first place, it is not 
in the sense that one body is said to be a part of another, or the 
greater body to contain the lesser ; nor is it as one number is said 
to contain another; but it is virtually or potentially that the more 
general idea contains the less general. In this way the genus con¬ 
tains the species; for the genus may be predicated of every species 
under it, whether existing or not existing; so that virtually it con¬ 
tains all the specieses under it, which exist or may exist. And not 
only does the more general contain the less general, but (what 
at first sight may appear surprising) the less general contains the 
more general, not virtually or potentially, but actually. Thus, the 
genus animal contains virtually man, and every other species of 
animal either existing, or that.may exist: but the genus animal is 
contained in man, and in other animals actually; for man cannot 
exist without being in actuality, and not potentially only, an 
animal.” * (Ancient Metaphysics, vol. iv. p. 73.) 

If we have recourse to Dr. Gillies for a little more light upon 
this question, we shall meet with a similar disappointment. Ac¬ 
cording to him, the meaning of the phrases in question is to be 
sought for in the following definition of Aristotle: “To say that 
one thing is contained in another, is the same as saying, that the 
second can be predicated of the first in the full extent of its sig¬ 
nification ; and one term is predicated of another in the full 
extent of its signification, when there is no particular denoted 
by the subject, to which the predicate does not apply.” t (Gillies’s 
Aristotle, vol. i. p. 73.) In order, therefore, to make sure of 
Aristotle’s idea, we must substitute the definition instead of 
the thing defined; that is, instead of saying that one thing is 
contained in another, we must say, that “ the second can be 
predicated of the first in the full extent of its signification.” In 

* For the distinction betwixt containing potentially and actually, Lord Monboddo 
acknowledges himself indebted to a Greek author then living, Eugenius Diaconus. 
(Anc. Met. vol, iv. p. 73.) Of this author we are elsewhere told, that he was a Pro¬ 
fessor in the Patriarch’s University at Constantinople ; and that he published, in pure 
Attic Greek, a system of logic, at Leipsic, in the year 1766. (Origin and Progress of 
Language, vol. i. p. 45, 2nd edit.) It is an extraordinary circumstance, that a disco¬ 
very, on which, in Lord Monboddo’s opinion, the whole truth of the syllogism depends, 
should have been of so very recent a date. 

'f' (( This remark,” says Dr. Gillies, “ which is the foundation of all Aristotle’s logic, 
has been sadly mistaken by many. Among others, Dr. Reid accuses Aristotle of using 
as synonymous phrases, the being in a subject, and the being truly predicated of a 
subject ; whereas the truth is, that, according to Aristotle, the meaning of the one 
phrase is directly the reverse of the meaning of the other.”—Ibid. 

While I readily admit the justness of this criticism on Dr. Reid, I must take the 
liberty of adding, that I consider Reid’s error as a mere oversight, or slip of the pen. 
That he might have accused Aristotle of confounding two things which, although dif¬ 
ferent in fact, had yet a certain degree of i*esemblauce or affinity, is by no means 
impossible : but it is scarcely conceivable, that he could be so careless as to accuse 
him of confounding two things which he invariably states in direct opposition to each 
other. I have not a doubt, therefore, that Reid’s idea was, that Aristotle used, as 
synonymous phrases, the being in a thing, and the being a subject of which that thiu<* 
can be truly predicated; more especially, as either statement would equally well have 
answered his purpose. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


425 


this last clause, I give Aristotle all the advantage of Dr. Gillies’s 
very paraphrastical version ; and yet, such is the effect of the com¬ 
ment, that it at once converts our axiom into a riddle. I do not 
say that, when thus interpreted, it is altogether unintelligible; but 
only that it no longer possesses the same sort of evidence which we 
ascribed to it, while we supposed that one thing was said by the 
logician to be contained in another, in the same sense in which a 
smaller box is contained in a greater.* 

To both comments the same observation may be applied ; that, 
the moment a person reads them, he must feel himself disposed to 
retract his assent to the axiom which they are brought to elucidate ; 
inasmuch as they must convince him, that what appeared to be, 
according to the common signification of words, little better than a 
truism, becomes, when translated into the jargon of the schools, an 
incomprehensible, if not, at bottom, an unmeaning enigma. 

I have been induced to enlarge, with more minuteness than I 
could have wished, on this fundamental article of logic, that I might 
not be accused of repeating those common-place generalities which 
have, of late, been so much complained of by Aristotle’s cham¬ 
pions. I must not, however, enter any farther into the details of 
the system; and shall therefore proceed, in the next section, to 
offer a few remarks of a more practical nature, on the object and on 
the value of the syllogistic art. 

II. General Reflections on the Aim of the Aristotelian Logic, and 
on the intellectual Habits which the study of it has a tendency to form .— 
That the improvement of the power of Reasoning ought to be regarded 
as only a secondary Object in the culture of the Understanding .—The 
remarks which were long ago made by Lord Bacon on the inutility 
of the syllogism as an organ of scientific discovery, together with 
the acute strictures in Mr. Locke’s Essay on this form of reasoning, 
are so decisive in point of argument, and, at the same time, so 
familiarly known to all who turn their attention to philosophical 
inquiries, as to render it perfectly unnecessary for me, on the pre¬ 
sent occasion, to add anything in support of them. I shall, there¬ 
fore, in the sequel, confine myself to a few very general and mis¬ 
cellaneous reflections on one or two points overlooked by these 
eminent writers ; but to which it is of essential importance to 
attend, in order to estimate justly the value of the Aristotelian logic, 
considered as a branch of education.f 

* It is worthy of observation, that Condillac has availed himself of the same meta¬ 
phorical and equivocal word which the foregoing comments profess to explain, in sup¬ 
port of the theory which represents every process of sound reasoning as a series of 
identical propositions. “ L'analyse est la meme dans toutes les sciences, parce que 
dans toutes elle conduit du connu a l’inconnu par le raisonnement, c’est-a-dire, par 
une suite de jugemens qui sont renfermes les uns dans les autres.”—La Logique. 
[Analysis is the same in all the sciences, because in them all, it leads from what is 
known, to what is unknown, by reasoning ; that is, by a series of judgments which are 
contained one in the other.] 

•f* To some of my readers it may not be superfluous to recommend, as a valuable 
supplement to the discussions of Locke and Bacon concerning the syllogistic art, what 


PART II. 


CHAP. Vf. 


426 


It is an observation which has been often repeated since Bacon’s 
time, and which, it is astonishing, was so long in forcing itself on 
the notice of philosophers, that in all our reasonings about the 
established order of the universe, experience is our sole guide, and 
knowledge is to be acquired only by ascending from particulars to 
generals ; whereas the syllogism leads us invariably from universal 
to particulars, the truth of which, instead of being a consequence 
of the universal proposition, is implied and presupposed in the very 
terms of its enunciation. The syllogistic art, therefore, it has been 
justly concluded, can he of no use in extending our knowledge of 
nature.* 

To this observation it may be added, that, if there are any parts of 
science in which the syllogism can be advantageously applied, it 
must be those where our judgments are formed, in consequence of 
an application to particular cases of certain maxims which we are 
not at liberty to dispute. An example of this occurs in the practice 
of law. Here the particular conclusion must be regulated by the 
general principle, whether right or wrong. The case was similar 
in every branch of philosophy, as long as the authority of great 
names prevailed, and the old scholastic maxims were allowed, with¬ 
out examination, to pass as incontrovertible truths.f Since the 


has been since written on the same subject, in farther prosecution of their views, by 
Dr. Reid in his Analysis of Aristotle’s Logic, and by Dr. Campbell in his Philosophy 
of Rhetoric. 

* On this point it would be a mere waste of time to enlarge, as it has been of late 
explicitly admitted by some of the ablest advocates for the Organon of Aristotle. 
“ When Mr. Locke, (I quote the words of a very judicious and acute logician,) wdien 
Mr. Locke says, ‘I am apt to think, that he who should employ all the force of his 
reason only in bi’andishing of syllogisms, will discover very little of that mass of know¬ 
ledge, which lies yet concealed in the secret recesses of nature he expresses himself 
with needless caution. Such a man will certainly not discover any of it. And if any 
imagine that the mere brandishing of syllogisms could increase their knowledge, (as 
some of the schoolmen seemed to think,) they were indeed very absurd.” (Commen- 
tary on the Compendium of Logic used in the University of Dublin. By the Rev. 
John Walker, F.T.C.D.) Dublin edition, 1805. 

To the same effect, it is remarked, by a later writer, with respect to Lord Bacon’s 
assertion, “ that discoveries in Natural Philosophy are not likely to be promoted by the 
engine of syllogism —“that this is a proposition which no one of the present day 
disputes ; and which, when alleged by our adversaries, as their chief objection to the 
study of logic, only proves that they are ignorant of the subject about which they are 
speaking, and of the manner in which it is now taught.” (See an Anonymous 
Pamphlet printed at Oxford in 1810, p. 26.) Dr. Gillies has expressed himself in terms 
extremely similar upon various occasions. See in particular vol. i. pp. 63, 64, 2nd edit. 

This very important concession reduces the question about the utility of the Aristo¬ 
telian logic within a very narrow compass. 

t “ Ce sera un sujet eternel d’etonuement pour les personnes qui savent bien ce que 
c’est que pliilosophie, que de voir que l’autorite d’Aristote a et6 tellement respectee 
dans les ecoles pendant quelques siecles, que lors qu’un disputant citoit un passage de 
ce philosophe, celui qui soutenoit la these n’osoit point dire transeat; il falloit qu’il 
niat le passage, ou qu’il l’expliquat a sa maniere.”—Diet, de Bayle. art. Aristote. 
[It will be an everlasting subject of wonder to persons who know what philosophy is, to 
find that Aristotle’s authority was so much respected in the schools for several ag^s, 
that when a disputant quoted a passage from this philosopher, he who maintained'the' 
thesis durst not say transeat, but must either deny the passage, or explain it his own 
way.] 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


427 

importance of experiment and observation was fully understood, the 
syllogistic art has gradually fallen into contempt. 

A remark somewhat similar occurs in the preface to the Novum 
Organon. “ They who attributed so much to logic,” says Lord 
Bacon, “ perceived very well and truly that it was not safe to trust 
the understanding to itself, without the guard of any rules. But 
the. remedy reached not the evil, but became a part of it: for the 
logic which took place, though it might do well enough in civil 
affairs, and the arts which consisted in talk and opinion, yet comes 
very far short of subtilty in the real performances of nature; and, 
catching at what it cannot reach, has served to confirm and esta¬ 
blish errors, rather than open a way to truth.”* 

It is not, however, merely as a useless or inefficient organ for the 
discovery of truth, that this art is exceptionable. The importance 
of the very object at which it professedly aims, is not a little doubt¬ 
ful. To exercise with correctness the powers of deduction and of 
argumentation ; or, in other words, to make a legitimate inference 
from the premises before us, would seem to be an intellectual pro¬ 
cess which requires but little assistance from rule. The strongest 
evidence of this is, the facility with which men of the most moderate 
capacity learn, in the course of a few months, to comprehend the 
longest mathematical demonstrations; a facility which, when con¬ 
trasted with the difficulty of enlightening their minds on questions 
of morals or of politics, affords a sufficient proof that it is not from 
any inability to conduct a mere logical process that our speculative 
errors arise. The fact is, that, in most of the sciences, our reason¬ 
ings consist of a very few steps; and yet, how liable are the most 
cautious and the most sagacious to form erroneous conclusions! 

To enumerate and examine the causes of these false judgments 
is foreign to my purpose in this section. The following (which I 
mention only by way of specimen) seem to be among the most 
powerful. 1. The imperfections of language, both as an instru¬ 
ment of thought, and as a medium of philosophical communication. 
2. The difficulty, in many of our most important inquiries, of ascer¬ 
taining the facts on which our reasonings are to proceed. 3. The 

* As the above translation is by Mr. Locke, who has introduced it in the way of 
apology for the freedom of his own strictures on the school logic, the opinion which it 
expresses may be considered as also sanctioned by the authority of his name. (See the 
Introduction to his Treatise on the Conduct of the Understanding.) I cannot forbear 
remarking, on this occasion, that when Lord Bacon speaks of the school logic as 
“ answering well enough in civil affairs, and the arts which consist in talk and opinion,” 
his words can only apply to dialectical syllogisms, aud cannot possibly be extended to 
those which Aristotle calls demonstrative. Whatever praise, therefore, it may be 
supposed to imply, must be confined to the Books of Topics. The same observation 
will be found to hold with respect to the greater part of what has been alleged in 
defence of the syllogistic art, by Dr. Gillies, and by the other authors referred to in 
the beginning of this section. One of the ablest of these seems to assent to an assertion 
of Bacon, u That logic does not help towards the invention of arts and sciences, but 
only of arguments.” If it only helps towards the invention of arguments, for what 
purpose has Aristotle treated so fully of demonstration and of science in the two books 
of the Last Analytics ? 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


428 


partial and narrow views which, from want of information, or from 
some defect in our intellectual comprehension, we are apt to take 
of subjects which are peculiarly complicated in their details, or 
which are connected, by numerous relations, with other questions 
equally problematical. And lastly, (what is of all, perhaps, the 
most copious source of speculative error,) the prejudices which au¬ 
thority and fashion, fortified by early impressions and associations, 
create to warp our opinions. To illustrate these and other circum¬ 
stances by which the judgment is apt to be misled in the search of 
truth, and to point out the most effectual means of guarding against 
them, would form a very important article in a philosophical system 
of logic ; but it is not on such subjects that we are to expect in¬ 
formation from the logic of Aristotle.* 

The fundamental idea on which this philosopher evidently pro¬ 
ceeded, and in which he has been too implicitly followed by many 
even of those who have rejected his syllogistic theory, takes for 
granted, that the discovery of truth chiefly depends on the rea¬ 
soning faculty, and that it is the comparative strength of this 
faculty which constitutes the intellectual superiority of one man 
above another. The similarity between the words reason and rea¬ 
soning, of which I formerly took notice, and the confusion which 
it has occasioned in their appropriate meanings, has contributed 
powerfully to encourage and to perpetuate this unfortunate mistake. 
If I do not greatly deceive myself, it will be found, on an accurate 
examination of the subject, that, of the different elements which 
enter into the composition of reason, in the most enlarged accep¬ 
tation of that word, the power of carrying on long processes of 
reasoning or deduction, is, in point of importance, one of the 
least.f 


* In the Logic of Port-Royal, there is a chapter entitled, “ Des sophismes d’amour- 
propre, d’inte'ret, et de passion”—[of sophisms resulting from self-love, interest or 
passion], which is well worthy of a careful perusal. Some useful hints may be also col¬ 
lected from Gravesande’s Introductio ad Philosophiam—[Introduction to Philosophy]. 
See book ii. part ii. De Causis Errorum—[concerning the Causes of Error.] 
f It was before observed (p. 356), “ That the whole theory of syllogism proceeds 
ou the supposition, that the same word is always to be employed in the same sense ; 
and that, consequently, it takes for granted, in every rule which it furnishes for the 
guidance of our reasoning powers, that the nicest, and by far the most difficult part of 
the logical process, has been previously brought to a successful termination.” 

In this remark (which, obvious as it may seem, has been very generally overlooked) 
I have found, since the foregoing sheets were printed, that I have been anticipated by 
M. Turgot. “ Tout l’artifice de ce calcul ingenieux, dont Aristote nous a donne les 
regies, tout Part du syllogisme est fonde sur l’usage des mots dans le meme sens ; 
l’emploi d’un m6me mot dans deux sens differens fait de tout raisonnemeut un 
sophisme ; et ce genre de sophisme, peut etre le plus commun de tous, est uue des 
sources les plus ordinaires de nos erreurs.”—CEuvres de M. Turgot, tom. iii. p. 66. 
[All skill in that ingenious mode of reasoning of which Aristotle has given us the 
rules, all the art of syllogism, is founded on the usage of words in the same sense. 
The use of the same word in different senses, converts all reasoning into a sophism, 
perhaps the commonest of all, and one of the most usual sources of our errors.] 

Lord Bacon had manifestly the same conclusion in view, in the following aphorism : 
“ Syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of words, and words are the signs of 
notions ; therefore, if our notions, the basis of all, are confined, and over hastily taken 


OF THE AKISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


429 

The slightest reflection, indeed, may convince us, how very little 
connexion the mere reasoning faculty has with the general improvement 
of mankind. The wonders which it has achieved have been confined, 
in a great measure, to the mathematical sciences,—the only branches 
of human knowledge which furnish occasion for long concatenated 
processes of thought; and even there, method, together with a 
dexterous use of the helps to our intellectual faculties which art 
has discovered, will avail more than the strongest conceivable ca¬ 
pacity, exercised solely and exclusively in habits of synthetic 
deduction. The tendency of these helps, it may be worth while 
to add, is so far from being always favourable to the power of 
reasoning, strictly so called, that it may he questioned, whether, 
among the ancient Greek geometers, this power was not in a higher 
state of cultivation, in consequence of their ignorance of the 
algebraical symbols, than it exists in at this day, among the 
profoundest mathematicians of Europe. 

In the other sciences, however, the truth of the remark is far 
more striking. [By whom was ever the art of reasoning so sedu¬ 
lously cultivated as by the schoolmen, and where shall we find 
such monuments of what mere reasoning can accomplish, as in 
their writings ? Whether the same end might not have been at¬ 
tained without the use of their technical rules, is a different ques¬ 
tion ; but that they did suceed to a great degree, in the acquisition 
of the accomplishments at which they aimed, cannot be disputed. 
And yet, I believe, it will be now very generally admitted, that 
never were labour and ingenuity employed, for so many ages, to so 
little purpose of real utility.] The absurdity of expecting to rear 
a fabric of science by the art of reasoning alone, was remarked, 
with singular sagacity, even amidst the darkness of the 12th cen¬ 
tury, by John of Salisbury, himself a distinguished proficient in 
scholastic learning, which he had studied under the celebrated 
Abelard. “ After a long absence from Paris,” he tells us in one 
passage, “ I went to visit the companions of my early studies. I 
found them, in every respect, precisely as I had left them ; not a 
single step advanced towards a solution of their old difficulties, nor 
enriched by the accession of one new idea:—a strong experimental 
proof, that, how much soever logic may contribute to the progress 
of other sciences, it must for ever remain barren and lifeless, while 
abandoned to itself.”—(Metalog. lib. ii. cap. 10.) 

Among the various pursuits now followed by men liberally 
educated, there is none, certainly, which affords such scope to the 
reasoning faculty as the science and profession of law ; and accord¬ 
ingly, it has been observed by Mr. Burke, “ That they do more 

from things, nothing that is built on them can he firm ; whence our only hope rests 
upon genuine induction.”—Nov. Org. part i. sect. i. aph. 14. (Shaw’s translation.) 

On what grounds Dr. Gillies was led to hazard the assertion formerly quoted (p. 415;, 
that « Aristotle invented the syllogism to prevent imposition arising from the abuse ot 
words,” I am quite unable to form a conjecture. 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


430 


to quicken and invigorate the understanding, than all the other 
kinds of learning put together.” The same author however adds, 
that “ they are not apt, except in persons very happily born, to 
open and to liberalize the mind, exactly in the same proportion.” 
Nor is this surprising: for the ultimate standards of right and 
wrong to which they recognise the competency of an appeal, being 
conventional rules and human authorities, no field is opened to 
that spirit of free inquiry which it is the boast of philosophy to cul¬ 
tivate. The habits of thought, besides, which the long exercise 
of the profession has a tendency to form, on its appropriate topics, 
seem unfavourable to the qualities connected with what is properly 
called judgment; or, in other words, to the qualities on which the 
justness or correctness of our opinions depends : they accustom the 
mind to those partial views of things which are suggested by the 
separate interests of litigants ; not to a calm, comprehensive, and 
discriminating survey of details, in all their bearings and relations. 
Hence the apparent inconsistencies which sometimes astonish us 
in the intellectual character of the most distinguished practitioners, 
—a talent for acute and refined distinctions ; powers of subtle, 
ingenious, and close argumentation; inexhaustible resources of 
invention, of wit, and of eloquence;—combined, not only with an 
infantine imbecility in the affairs of life, but with an incapacity of 
forming a sound decision, even on those problematical questions 
which are the subjects of their daily discussion. The great and 
enlightened minds, whose judgments have been transmitted to pos¬ 
terity, as oracles of legal wisdom, were formed, it may be safely 
presumed, not by the habits of their professional warfare, but by 
contending with these habits, and shaking off their dominion. 

The habits of a controversial writer are, in some respects, 
analogous to those of a lawyer : and their effects on the intellectual 
powers, when engaged in the investigation of truth, are extremely 
similar. They confine the attention to one particular view of the 
question, and, instead of training the understanding to combine 
together the various circumstances which seem to favour opposite 
conclusions, so as to limit each other, and to guard the judgment 
against either extreme,—they are apt, by presenting the subject 
sometimes wholly on the one side, and sometimes wholly on the 
other, to render the disputant the sceptical dupe of his own inge¬ 
nuity. Such seems to have been nearly the case with the redoubt¬ 
able Chillingworth: a person to whose native candour the most 
honourable testimony has been borne by the most eminent of his 
contemporaries, and whose argumentative powers have almost 
become matter of proverbial remark. Dr. Reid has pronounced 
him the “ best reasoner, as well as the acutest logician, of his age ;” 
and Locke himself has said, “ If you would have your son to reason 
well, let him read Chillingworth.” To what consequences these 
rare endowments and attainments led, we may learn from Lord 
Clarendon. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


431 

“ Mr. Chillingworth had spent all his younger time in disputa¬ 
tions, and had arrived at so great a mastery, that he was inferior to 
no man in those skirmishes: but he had, with his notable perfec¬ 
tion in this exercise, contracted such an irresolution and habit of 

doubting, that by degrees he grew confident of nothing.”-- 

“ Neither the books of his adversaries, nor any of their persons, 
though he was acquainted with the best of both, had ever made 
great impression on him ; all his doubts grew out of himself, when 
he assisted his scruples with all the strength of his own reason, and 
was then too hard for himself: but finding as little quiet and repose 
in those victories, he quickly recovered, by a new appeal to his 
own judgment; so that, in truth, he was in all his sallies and 
retreats, his own convert.” 

The foregoing observations, if well founded, conclude strongly, 
not merely against the form of the school logic, but against the 
importance of the end to which it is directed. Locke and many 
others have already sufficiently shown, how inadequate the syllo¬ 
gistic theory is to its avowed purpose; but few seem to be suffi¬ 
ciently aware how very little this purpose, if it were attained, , 
would advance us in the knowledge of those truths which are the 
most interesting to human happiness. 

“ There is one species of madman,” says Father Buffier, “ that 
makes an excellent logician.” (Traite des Prem. Verites, Part. I. 
chap, xi.)—The remark has the appearance of being somewhat 
paradoxical; but it is not without a solid foundation, both in fact, 
and in the theory of the human understanding. Nor does it apply 
merely, as Buffier seems to have meant it, to the scholastic defenders 
of metaphysical paradoxes : it extends to all whose ruling passion 
is a display of argumentative dexterity, without much solicitude 
about the justness of their premises, or the truth of their conclu¬ 
sions. It is observed by Lord Erskine, in one of his admirable 
pleadings lately published, that “ in all the cases which have filled 
Westminster-hall with the most complicated considerations—the 
lunatics, and other insane persons who have been the subjects of 
them, have not only had the most perfect knowledge and recollec¬ 
tion of all the relations they stood in towards others, and of the 
acts and circumstances of their lives, but have, in general, been 
remarkable for subtlety and acuteness .”—“ These,” he adds, “ are 
the cases which frequently mock the wisdom of the wisest injudi¬ 
cial trials; because such persons often reason with a subtlety 
which puts in the shade the ordinary conceptions of mankind: 
their conclusions are just, and frequently profound; but the pre¬ 
mises from which they reason, when within the range of the 
malady, are uniformly false;—not false from any defect of know¬ 
ledge or judgment; but because a delusive image, the inseparable 
companion of real insanity, is thrust upon the subjugated under¬ 
standing, incapable of resistance, because unconscious of attack.” 

In the instances here alluded to, something, it is probable, ought 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


432 


to be attributed to the physical influence of the disorder in occa¬ 
sioning, together with an increased propensity to controversy, a 
preternatural and morbid excitation of the power of attention, and 
of some other intellectual faculties ; but much more, in my opinion, 
to its effect in removing the check of those collateral circumstances 
by which, in more sober understandings, the reasoning powers are 
perpetually retarded and controlled in their operation. Among 
these circumstances, it is sufficient to specify, for the sake of illus¬ 
tration, 1. That distrust which experience gradually teaches of 
the accuracy and precision of the phraseology in which our reason¬ 
ings are expressed ;—accompanied with a corresponding apprehen¬ 
sion of involuntary mistakes from the ambiguity aud vagueness of 
language ; 2. A latent suspicion that we may not be fully in 
possession of all the elements on which the solution of the problem 
depends ; and, 3. The habitual influence of those first principles of 
propriety, of morality, and of common sense, which, as long as 
reason maintains her ascendant, exercise a paramount authority 
over all those speculative conclusions which have any connexion 
with the business of life. Of these checks or restraints on our 
reasoning processes, none are cultivated and strengthened, either 
by the rules of the logician, or by the habits of viva voce disputa¬ 
tion. On the contrary, in proportion as their regulating power is 
confirmed, that hesitation and suspense of judgment are encouraged 
which are so congenial to the spirit of true philosophy, but such 
fatal incumbrances in contending with an antagonist whose object 
is not truth but victory. In madness, where their control is 
entirely thrown off, the merely logical process (which never stops 
to analyse the meaning of words) is likely to go on more rapidly 
and fearlessly than before ;—producing a volubility of speech, and 
an apparent quickness of conception, which present to common 
observers all the characteristics of intellectual superiority. It is 
scarcely necessary to add, that the same appearances, which in this 
extreme case of mental aberration are displayed on so great a scale, 
may be expected to show themselves, more or less, wherever there 
is any deficiency in those qualities which constitute depth and 
sagacity of judgment. 

For my own part, so little value does my individual experience 
lead me to place on argumentative address, when compared with 
some other endowments subservient to our intellectual improve¬ 
ment, that I have long been accustomed to consider that prompt¬ 
ness of reply and dogmatism of decision which mark the eager and 
practised disputant, as almost infallible symptoms of a limited 
capacity; a capacity deficient in what Locke has called (in very 
significant, though somewhat homely terms) large, sound, round¬ 
about sense.—(Conduct of the Understanding, §. 3.) In all the 
higher endowments of the understanding, this intellectual quality 
(to which nature, as well as education, must liberally contribute,) 
may be justly regarded as an essential ingredient. It is this which, 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


433 

when cultivated by study, and directed to great objects or pursuits, 
produces an unprejudiced, comprehensive, and efficient mind ; and 
where it is wanting, though we may occasionally find a more than 
ordinary share of quickness and of information ; a plausibility and 
brilliancy of discourse ; and that passive susceptibility of polish 
from the commerce of the world, which is so often united with 
imposing but secondary talents,—we may rest assured that there 
exists a total incompetency for enlarged views and sagacious com¬ 
binations, either in the researches of science or in the conduct of 
affairs.* 

If these observations hold with respect to the art of reasoning or 
argumentation, as it is cultivated by men undisciplined in the con¬ 
tentions of the schools, they will be found to apply with infinitely 
greater force to those disputants (if any such are still to be found) 
who, in the present advanced state of human knowledge, have been 
a t pains to fortify themselves, by a course of persevering study, 
with the arms of the Aristotelian logic. Persons of the former 
description often reason conscientiously with warmth, from false 
premises, which they are led by passion, or by want of information, 
to mistake for truth. Those of the latter description proceed sys¬ 
tematically on the radical error of conceiving the reasoning process 
to be the most powerful instrument by which truth is to be at¬ 
tained ; combined with the secondary error of supposing that the 
power of reasoning may be strengthened and improved by the 
syllogistic art. 

In one of Lord Karnes’s sketches there is an amusing and in¬ 
structive collection of facts to illustrate the progress of reason; a 
phrase by which he seems to mean chiefly the progress of good 
sense, or of that quality of the intellect which is very significantly 
expressed by the epithet enlightened. To what is this progress 
(which has been going on with such unexampled rapidity during 

* The outlines of an intellectual character, approaching nearly to this description, is 
exhibited by Marmontel in his highly finished (and I have been assured, very faithful) 
portrait of M. de Brienne. Among the other defects of that unfortunate statesman, 
he mentions particularly un esprit a facettes ; by which expression he seems, from the 
context, to mean a quality of mind precisely opposite to that described by Locke in the 
words quoted above :—“ quelques lumieres, mais eparses ; des appeivjus plutot quedes 
vues ; et dans les grands objets, de la facilite a saisir les petits details, nulle capacite 
pour embrasser l’ensemble.”— [Some information, but scattered ; glances rather 
than views ; and, in great objects, facility in seizing small details, no capacity for 
embracing the whole.]—A consciousness of some similar deficiency has suggested to 
Gibbon the following criticism on his own juvenile performance, entitled Essai sur 
VEtude. It is executed by an impartial and a masterly hand ; and may, perhaps, 
without much injustice, be extended, not only to his Roman history, but to the dis¬ 
tinguishing features of that peculiar cast of genius which so strongly marks all his 
writings. 

“ The most serious defect of my essay is a kind of obscurity and abruptness which 
always fatigues, and may often elude the attention of the reader. The obscurity of 
many passages is often affected ; proceeding from the desire of expressing perhaps a 
common idea with sententious brevity : ‘ brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio.’ Alas ! how 
fatal has been the imitation of Montesquieu ! But this obscurity sometimes proceeds 
from a mixture of light and darkness in the author’s mind ; from a partial ray which 
strikes upon an angle, instead of spreading itself over the surface of an object.” 


434 


PART II. 


chap. vr. 


the two last centuries) to be ascribed ? Not surely to any improve¬ 
ment in the art of reasoning; for many of the most melancholy 
weaknesses which he has recorded were exhibited by men distin¬ 
guished by powers of discussion and a reach of thought which have 
never been surpassed; while, on the other hand, the same weak¬ 
nesses would now be treated with contempt by the lowest of the 
vulgar. The principal cause, I apprehend, has been the general 
diffusion of knowledge, and more especially of experimental know¬ 
ledge, by the art of printing; in consequence of which, those pre¬ 
judices which had so long withstood the assaults both of argument 
and of ridicule, have been gradually destroyed by their mutual col¬ 
lision, or lost in the infinite multiplicity of elementary truths 
which are identified with the operations of the infant understand¬ 
ing. To examine the process by which truth has been slowly and 
insensibly cleared from that admixture of error with which, during 
the long night of Gothic ignorance, it was contaminated and dis¬ 
figured, would form a very interesting subject of philosophical 
speculation. At present, it is sufficient to remark how little we 
are indebted for our emancipation from this intellectual bondage 
to those qualities which it was the professed object of the school- 
logic to cultivate ; and that, in the same proportion in which liber¬ 
ality and light have spread over Europe, this branch of study has 
sunk in the general estimation. 

Of the inefficacy of mere reasoning in bringing men to an agree¬ 
ment on those questions which, in all ages, have furnished to the 
learned the chief matter of controversy, a very just idea seems to 
have been formed by the ingenious author of the following lines ; 
who has, at the same time, hinted at a remedy against a numerous 
and important class of speculative errors, more likely to succeed 
than any which is to be derived from the most skilful application of 
Aristotle’s rules; or indeed, from any direct argumentative refu¬ 
tation, how conclusive and satisfactory soever it may appear to an 
unbiassed judgment. It must at the same time be owned, that 
this remedy is not without danger ; and that the same habits which 
are so useful in correcting the prejudices of the monastic bigot, and 
so instructive to all whose principles are sufficiently fortified by 
reflection, can scarcely fail to produce pernicious effects where they 
operate upon a character not previously formed and confirmed by 
a judicious education. 

“ Eu parcourant au loin la planete ou nous sommes, 

Q.ue verrons-nous ? les torts et les travers des homines ! 

Ici c’est un synode, et la c’est un divan. 

Nous verrons le Mufti, le Derviche, l’lman, 

Le Bonze, le Lama, le Talapoin, le Pope, 

Les antiques Rabbins et les Abbes d’Europe, 

Nos moines, nos prelats, nos docteurs agreges ; 

Etes vous disputeurs, nies amis ? voyagez.” 

Discours sur les Disputes, par M. de Rulh&ire.* 

* “ In surveying at a distance the planet which we inhabit, what do we see ? The 
errors and wrongness of men. There is here a synod, there a divan. We shall see 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


435 


To these verses it may not be altogether useless to subjoin a 
short quotation from Mr. Locke ; in whose opinion the aid of 
foreign travel seems to be less necessary for enlightening some of 
the classes of controversialists included in the foregoing enumera¬ 
tion, than was suspected by the poet. The moral of the passage, 
if due allowances be made for the satirical spirit which it breathes, 
is pleasing on the whole, as it suggests the probability that our 
common estimates of the intellectual darkness of our own times 
are not a little exaggerated. 

“ Notwithstanding the great noise that is made in the world 
about errors and opinions, I must do mankind that right as to say, 
There are not so many men in errors and wrong opinions as is com¬ 
monly supposed. Not that I think they embrace the truth, but, 
indeed, because concerning those doctrines they keep such a stir 
about, they have no thought, no opinion at all. For if any one 
should a little catechize the greatest part of the partizans of most 
of the sects in the world, he would not find, concerning those mat¬ 
ters they are so zealous for, that they have any opinion of their 
own : much less would he have reason to think that they took them 
upon the examination of arguments and appearance of probability. 
They are resolved to stick to a party that education or interest has 
engaged them in; and there, like the common soldiers of an army, 
show their courage and warmth as their leaders direct, without ever 
examining, or so much as knowing the cause they contend for. If 
a man’s life shows that he has no serious regard for religion, for 
what reason should we think that he beats his head about the 
opinions of his church, and troubles himself to examine the grounds 
of this or that doctrine ? ’Tis enough for him to obey his leaders, 
to have his hand and his tongue ready for the support of the common 
cause, and thereby approve himself to those who can give him 
credit, preferment, and protection in that society. Thus men 
become combatants for those opinions they were never convinced of ; 
no, nor ever had so much as floating in their heads; and though one 
cannot say there are fewer improbable or erroneous opinions in the 
world than there are , yet this is certain , there are fewer that actually 
assent to them , and mistake them for truths , than is imagined .” (Essay 
on Human Understanding, book iv. c. 20.) 

If these remarks of Locke were duly weighed, they would have 
a tendency to abridge the number of controversial writers ; and to 
encourage philosophers to attempt the improvement of mankind, 
rather by adding to the stock of useful knowledge, than by waging 
a direct war with prejudices which have less root in the under¬ 
standings than in the interests and passions of their abettors. 

III. In what respects the study of the Aristotelian logic may be useful 

the Mufti, the Dervis, the Iraan, the Bonze, the Lama, the Talapoin, the Pope, the 
ancient Rabbis, and the European Abbes, our monks, our prelates, our assembled 
doctors. Are you disputatious, my friend ? Go and travel.”—Discourse on Disputes, 
by Mr. Rulhiere. 

f f 2 


PART n. 


CHAP. vr. 


436 


to disputants.—A general acquaintance with it justly regarded as an 
essential accomplishment to those who are liberally educated. Doubts 
suggested by some late writers, concerning Aristotle s claims to the 
invention of the Syllogistic Theory. —The general result of the lore- 
going reflections is/That neither the means employed by the school 
logic for the assistance of the discursive faculty, nor the accomplish¬ 
ment of that end, were it really attained, are of much consequence 
in promoting the enlargement of the mind, or in guarding it against 
the influence of erroneous opinions. [It is, however, a veiy 
different question, how far this art may be of use to such as are led 
by profession or inclination to try their strength in polemical war¬ 
fare. My own opinion is, that, in the present age, it would not give 
to the disputant , in the judgment of men whose suffrage is of any 
value, the slightest advantage over his antagonist. In earlier times, 
indeed, the case must have been different. While the scholastic 
forms continued to be kept up, and while schoolmen were the. sole 
judges of the contest, an expert logician could not fail to obtain an 
easy victory over .an inferior proficient. Now, however, when the 
supreme tribunal to which all parties must appeal, is to be found, 
not within, but without the walls of universities ; and when the 
most learned dialectician must, for his own credit, avoid all allusion 
to the technical terms and technical forms of his art, can it be im¬ 
agined that the mere possession of its rules furnishes him with 
invisible aid for annoying his adversary, or renders him invulne¬ 
rable by some secret spell against the weapons of his assailant ?*] 
Were this really the case, one might have expected that the advo¬ 
cates who have undertaken its defence, considering how much their 
pride was interested in the controversy, would have given us some 
better specimens of its practical utility, in defending it against the 
unscientific attacks of Bacon and of Locke. It is, however, not 
a little remarkable, that, in every argument which they have 


* An argument of this sort in favour of the Aristotelian logic, has, in fact, been 
lately alleged, in a treatise to which I have already had occasion to refer. 

“ Mr. Locke seems throughout to imagine that no use can he made of the doctrine 
of syllogisms, unless by men who deliver their reasonings in syllogistic form. That 
would indeed justly expose a man to the imputation of disgusting pedantry and tedious¬ 
ness. But, in fact, he who never uses an expression borrowed from the Aristotelic 
logic, may yet, unobserved, be availing himself, in the most important manner, of its 
use, by bringing definitions, divisions, and arguments, to the test of its rules. 

“In the mere application of it to the examining of an argument which we desire to 
refute,—the logician will be able to bring the argument in his own mind to syllogistic 
form.—He will then have before his view every constituent part of the argument ; 
some of which may have been wholly suppressed by his antagonist, and others disguised 
by ambiguity and declamation.—He knows every point in which it is subject to exami¬ 
nation.—He perceives immediately, by the rules of his art, whether the premises may 
be acknowledged, and the conclusion denied, for want of a vis consequentiae.—If not, 
he knows where to look for a weakness.—He turns to each of the premises, and con¬ 
siders whether they are false, dubious, or equivocal : and is thus prepared and directed 
to expose every weak point in the argument with clearness, precision, and method ; 
and this to those who perhaps are wholly ignorant of the aids by which the speaker is 
thus enabled to carry conviction with his discourse.”— Commentary on the Compen¬ 
dium of Logic used in the University of Dublin. Dublin, 1805. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


437 

attempted in its favour, they have not only been worsted by those 
very antagonists whom they accuse of ignorance, but fairly driven 
from the field of battle.* 

It has, indeed, been asserted by an ingenious and learned writer, 
that “ he has never met with a person unacquainted with logic, 
who could state and maintain his argument with facility, clearness, 
and precision ; that he has seen a man of the acutest mind puzzled 
by the argument of his antagonist; sensible, perhaps, that it was 
inconclusive, but wholly unable to expose the fallacy which ren¬ 
dered it so : while a logician, of perhaps very inferior talents, 
would be able at once to discern and to mark it.”f 

I do not deny that there may be some foundation for this state¬ 
ment. The part of Aristotle’s Organon which seems, in the design, 
to be the most practically useful (although it is certainly very im¬ 
perfect in the execution,) is the hook of Sophisms ; a book which still 
supplies a very convenient phraseology for marking concisely some 
of the principal fallacies which are apt to impose on the under¬ 
standing in the heat of a viva voce dispute.I Whether it affords 

* In most of the defences of the school logic which I have seen, the chief weapon 
employed has been that kind of argument which, in scholastic phraseology, is called 
the argumentum ad hominem ; an argument in the use of which much regard to con¬ 
sistency is seldom to be expected.—In one sentence, accordingly, Bacon and Locke are 
accused of having never read Aristotle ; and, in the next, of having borrowed from 
Aristotle the most valuable part of their writings. 

With respect to Locke, it has been triumphantly observed, that his acquaintance 
with Aristotle’s logic must have been superficial, as he has, in one of his objections, 
manifestly confounded particular with singular propositions. (Commentary on the 
Dublin Compendium.) The criticism, I have no doubt, is just; but does it therefore 
follow, that a greater familiarity with the technical niceties of an art which he despised, 
would have rendered this profound thinker more capable of forming a just estimate of 
its scope and spirit, or of its efficacy in aiding the human understanding ?—Somewhat 
of the same description are the attempts which have been repeatedly made to dis¬ 
credit the strictures of Dr. Reid, by appealing to his own acknowledgment, that there 
might possibly be some parts of the Analytics and Topics, which he had never read. 
The passage in which this acknowledgment is made, is so characteristical of the 
modesty and candour of the writer, that I am tempted to annex it to this note ;—more 
especially, as I am persuaded that, with many readers, it will have the effect of con¬ 
firming, rather than of shaking their confidence in the general correctness and fidelity 
of his researches. 

“ In attempting to give some account of the Analytics and of the Topics of Aristotle, 
ingenuity requires me to confess, that, though I have often purposed to read the whole 
with care, and to understand what is intelligible, yet my courage and patience always 
failed before I had done. Why should I throw away so much time and painful atten¬ 
tion upon a thing of so little real use 1 If I had lived in those ages when the knowledge 
of Aristotle’s Organon entitled a man to the highest rank in philosophy, ambition 
might have induced me to employ upon it some years of painful study ; and less, I 
conceive, would not be sufficient. Such reflections as these always got the better of 
my resolution, when the first ardour began to cool. All I can say, is, that I have read 
some parts of the books with care, some slightly, and some perhaps not at all. I have 
glanced over the whole often, and when any thing attracted my attention, have dipped 
into it till my appetite was satisfied. Of all reading, it. is the most dry and the most 
painful, employing an infinite labour of demonstration about things of the most 
abstract nature, delivered in a laconic style, and often, I think, with affected obscurity; 
and all to prove general propositions, which, when applied to particular instances, 
appear self-evident.”—Chap. iii. sect. 1. 

f Mr. Walker, author of the Commentary on the Dublin Compendium of Logic. 

J Such phrases, for example, as 1. Fallacia Accidentia. [Fallacy of the accident.] 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


438 


any aid in detecting or discerning these fallacies may perhaps be 
doubted. But it is certainly an acquisition, and an acquisition of 
no contemptible value, to have always at hand a set of technical 
terms, by which we can point out to our hearers, without circum¬ 
locution or discussion, the vulnerable parts of our antagonist’s 
reasoning. That nothing useful is to be learned from Aristotle’s 
logic I am far from thinking ; but I believe that all which is useful 
in it might be reduced into a very narrow compass; and I am 
decidedly of opinion, that wherever it becomes a serious and 
favourite object of study, it is infinitely more likely to do harm 
than good. Indeed, I cannot help considering it as strongly symp¬ 
tomatic of some unsoundness in a man’s judgment, when I find him 
disposed (after all that has been said by Bacon and Locke) to mag¬ 
nify its importance either as an inventive or as an argumentative 
organ. Nor does this opinion rest upon theory alone. It is con¬ 
firmed by all that I have observed, (if after the example of the 
author last quoted I may presume to mention the results of my 
own observations,) with respect to the intellectual characters of the 
most expert dialecticians whom I have happened to know. Among 
these, I can with great truth say, that although I recollect several 
possessed of much learning, subtlety, and ingenuity, I can name 
none who have extended by their discoveries the boundaries of 
science ; or on whose good sense I should conceive that much 
reliance was to be placed in the conduct of important affairs. 

Some very high authorities, I must at the same time confess, 
may be quoted on the opposite side of the question ; among others, 
that of Leibnitz, unquestionably one of the first names in modern 
philosophy. But on this point the mind of Leibnitz was hot 
altogether unwarped: for he appears to have early contracted a 
partiality, not only for scholastic learning, but for the projects of 
some of the schoolmen to reduce, by means of technical aids, the 
exercise of the discursive faculty to a sort of mechanical operation; 
a partiality which could not fail to be cherished by that strong bias 
towards synthetical reasoning from abstract maxims which charac¬ 
terises all his philosophical speculations. It must be remembered, 
too, that he lived at a period when logical address was still regarded 
in Germany as an indispensable accomplishment to all whose taste 


2. A dicto secundum quid, ad dictum simpliciter. [From what is said with regard to 
some thing to what is said simply.] 3. Ab ignorantia elenchi. [From ignorance of 
the confutation.] 4. A non causa pro causa. [From what is not a cause to a cause.] 
5. Fallacia consequentis. [Fallacy of the consequence.] 6. Petitio principii. [Taking 
for granted the point in question.] 7. Fallacia plurium interrogationum, &c. [The 
fallacy of many interrogations.] Fallacies distinct from the expression, Fallacies in 
the expression, Fallacy of equivocation, Fallacy of ambiguity, Fallacy of accent or 
pronunciation, Fallacy from a figure of expression. 

I have mentioned those fallacies alone which are called by logicians Fallaciae extra 
Dictionem ; for as to those which are called Fallaciae in Dictione (such as the Fallacia 
iEquivocationis, Fallacia Amphiboliae, Fallacia Accentus vel Pronunciationis, Fallacia 
a Figura dictionis, &c.) they are too contemptible to be deserving of any notice. For 
some remarks on this last class of fallacies, see note k k. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


439 


led them to the cultivation of letters or of science. Nor was this 
an accomplishment of easy acquisition; requiring, as it must have 
done, for its attainment, a long course of laborious study, and, for 
its successful display, a more than ordinary share of acuteness, 
promptitude, and invention. To all which it may be added, that 
while it remained in vogue, it must have been peculiarly flattering 
to the vanity and self-love of the possessor; securing to him, in 
every contest with the comparatively unskilful, an infallible triumph. 
These considerations, (combined with that attachment to the study 
of jurisprudence which he retained through life,) may, I think, go 
far to account for the disposition which Leibnitz sometimes shows 
to magnify a little too much the value of this art. It is, besides, 
extremely worthy of remark, with respect to this eminent man, 
within what narrow limits he circumscribes the province of the 
school logic, notwithstanding the favourable terms in which he 
occasionally speaks of it. The following passage in one of his letters 
is particularly deserving of attention, as it confines the utility of syl¬ 
logism to those controversies alone which are carried on in writing, 
and contains an explicit acknowledgment that, in extemporaneous 
discussions, the use of it is equally nugatory and impracticable. 

“ I have myself experienced the great utility of the forms of logic 
in bringing controversies to an end; and wonder how it has hap¬ 
pened that they should have been so often applied to disputes where 
no issue was to be expected, while their real use has been altogether 
overlooked. In an argument which is carried on viva voce, it is 
scarcely possible that the forms should continue to be rigorously 
observed; not only on account of the tediousness of the process, 
but chiefly from the difficulty of retaining distinctly in the memory 
all the different links of a long chain. Accordingly, it commonly 
happens that, after one prosyllogism, the disputants betake them¬ 
selves to a freer mode of conference. But if, in a controversy 
carried on in writing, the legitimate forms were strictly observed, 
it would neither be difficult nor disagreeable, by a mutual exchange 
of syllogisms and answers, to keep up the contest* till either the 
point to be proved was completely established, or the disputants had 
nothing farther to allege in support of it. For the introduction, 
however, of this into practice, many rules remain to be prescribed; 
the greater part of which are to be collected from the practice of 
lawyers.” (Leibnitz, Op. tom. vi. p. 72. Edit. Dutens.) 

This concession, from so consummate a judge, I consider as of 
great consequence in the present argument. For my own part, if I 
were called on to plead the cause of the school logic, I should cer¬ 
tainly choose to defend, as the more tenable of the two posts, that 

* The words in the original are—“ non ingratum nec difficile foret, raittendo remit- 
tendoque syllogismoS et responsiones, tamdiu reciprocare serram, donee vel confectum, 
sit quod probandum erat, vel nihil ultra habeat quod afferat argumentator.” [It would 
be neither disagreeable nor difficult, by sending and returning syllogisms and answers 
to keep the saw going, until either what was proposed for proof be effected, or the dis¬ 
putant has nothing more to bring forward.] 


440 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


which Leibnitz has voluntarily abandoned. Much might, I think, 
on this ground be plausibly alleged in its favour, in consequence of 
its obvious tendency to cultivate that invaluable talent to a disput¬ 
ant, which Aristotle has so significantly expressed by the word 
ayxivoLa ;* a talent of which the utility cannot be so forcibly pic¬ 
tured, as in the lively and graphical description given by Johnson, 
of the inconveniences with which the want of it is attended. 

(< There are men whose powers operate only at leisure and in 
retirement, and whose intellectual vigour deserts them in conversa¬ 
tion ; whom merriment confuses, and objection disconcerts : whose 
bashfulness restrains their exertion, and suffers them not to speak 
till the time of speaking is past; or whose attention to their own 
character makes them unwilling to utter at hazard what has not 
been considered and cannot be recalled.” (Life of Dryden.) 

The tendency, however, of scholastic disputations to cure these 
defects, it must not be forgotten, belongs to them only in common 
with all other habits of extemporaneous debate ; and the question 
still recurs, Whether it would not be wiser to look for the remedy 
in exercises more analogous to the real business of life ? 

[After having said so much in disparagement of the art of syllo¬ 
gising, I feel it incumbent on me to add, that I would not be under¬ 
stood to represent a general acquaintance with it as an attainment 
of no value, even in these times. The technical language connected 
with it is now so incorporated with all the higher departments of 
learning, that, independently of any consideration of its practical 
application, some knowledge of its peculiar phraseology may be 
regarded as an indispensable preparation both for scientific and for 
literary pursuits.f To the philosopher it must ever remain a sub- 

* Aristotle’s definition of ayx^oia turns upon one only of the many advantages 
which presence of mind bestows, in the management of a viva voce dispute. HS 5 ayxivoia 
ear tv evaroxia Tts ev aaKeirrcp XP 0V V T0V pecrov. (Sagacitas est bona qutedara medii 
conjectatio brevissimo tempore.) [Sagacity is a successful making out of the middle 
term in a very short time.] Analyt. Post. lib. i. cap. 34. I use the word, upon this 
occasion, in that extensive and obvious sense which its etymology suggests, and in 
which the corresponding Latin phrase is employed by Quiuctilian. “ In altercatione 
opus est imprimis ingenio veloci ac mobili, animo prsesenti et acri. Non enim corntan- 
dum, sed dicendum statim est.”—Quinct. lib. vi. cap. 4. [In disputation there is 
special need of quick and adroit talents, or presence of mind and shrewdness.] 

t It was with great pleasure I read, the concluding paragraph of the introduction 
prefixed to a Compend of Logic, sanctioned by so learned a body as the University of 
Dublin. “Utrum hsecce ars per se revera aliquem prsestet usum, quidam dubitavere. 
Quoniam vero in Authorum insigniorum scriptis, seepe occurant termini Logici, hos 
terminos explicatoshabere, ideoque et ipsius artis partes praecipuas, omnino necessarium 
videtur. Haec itaque in sequenti compendio efficere est propositum.”—Artis Logies 
Compendiam. In usum Juventutis Collegii Dubliniensis. [Some have doubted 
whether this science in reality be of any use ; but since logical terms frequently occur 
in the writings of eminent men, it seems indispensable to have these terms explained, 
and consequently the principal parts of the science itself. It is proposed to do this in 
the following compendium.—Compendium of Logic, for the use of the Youth of 
Dublin College.] 

The arrangement of this department of academical study, proposed by M. Prevost 
of Geneva, seems to be very judiciously and happily imagined. 

“ Dialecticam, quae linguae philosophies usum tradit, seorsim docere : et logicam, 
quae ratiouis analysin instituit, ab omni de verbis disputatione sejungere visum est. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


441 

ject of speculation peculiarly interesting, as one of the most singu¬ 
lar facts in the history of the human understanding.] The ingenuity 
and subtlety of the invention, and the comprehensive reach of 
thought displayed in the systematical execution of so vast a design, 
form a proud and imperishable monument to the powers of Aris¬ 
totle’s mind, and leave us only to regret that they were wasted upon 
objects of so little utility. In no point of view, however, does this 
extraordinary man appear to rise so far above the ordinary level of 
the species as when we consider the dominion which he exercised, 
during so long a succession of ages, over the opinions of the most 
civilised nations. Of this dominion the basis was chiefly laid in the 
syllogistic theory, and in the preparatory books on the Categories 
and on Interpretation; a part of his works to which he was more 
indebted for his authority in the schools than to all the rest put 
together. Is it extravagant to conjecture, that Aristotle himself 
foresaw this ; and that knowing how prone the learned are to admire 
what they do not fully comprehend, and to pride themselves on the 
possession of a mystical jargon, unintelligible to the multitude, he 
resolved to adapt himself to their taste in those treatises which were 
destined to serve, in the first instance, as the foundation of his fame ? 
If such was really his idea, the event has shown how soundly he 
judged of human nature, in this grand experiment upon its weak¬ 
ness and ductility.* 

“ Logicam autem in tres partes dividimus : de veritate, de errore, de methodo : ut 
hsec mentis medicina, ad instar medicinse corporis, exhibeat ordine statum naturalem, 
morbos, curationem.” [It seems proper to teach by strict Dialectus, which confer the 
use of philosophical language, and to separate logic which instructs in the analysis of 
reason from any controversy concerning words.—But we divide logic into three parts, 
concerning truth, error, and method; that this medicinal treatment of the mind, like 
the medicinal treatment of the body, should exhibit, in order, the sound state, the dis¬ 
eases, and the remedies.] 

See the preface to a short but masterly tract, De Probabilitate, [On Probability^ 
printed at Geneva in 1794. 

* The following historical sketch from Ludovicus Yives may serve to show that the 
foregoing supposition is not altogether gratuitous. “ A temporibus Platoniset Aristo- 
telis usque ad Alexandrum Aphrodiseum, qui vixit Severo et ejus filiis Principibus, 
Aristoteles nominabatur magis, quam vel legebatur a doctis vel intelligebatur. Primus 
ille agressus eum enarrare, et adjuvit studia multorum et ad alia in eo Philosopho quse- 
renda excitavit. Mansit tamen crebrior in manibus liominum et notior Plato, usque 
ad scholas in Gallia et Italia publice constitutas, id est, quamdiu Grseca et Latina lingua 
viguerunt. Postea vei'o quam theatricse coeperunt esse discipline, omuisque earum 
fructus existimatus est, posse disputando fucum facere, et os obturare, et pulverem ob 
oculos jacere, idque imperitissima, peritia, et nominibus ad lubitum confictis, accommo- 
datiores ad rem visi sunt libri logici Aristotelis et physici, relictis permultis 
praeclaris ejus operibus : Platone vero, et quod ab eis non intellegeretur, quamvis 
multo minus Aristotelis, et quod artificium videretur docere, ne nominate quidem ; 
non quod minorem aut ineruditiorem putem Platone Aristotelem, sed quod ferendum 
non est, Platonem sanctissimum philosophum prseteriri, et Aristotelem ita legi, ut 
meliore rejecta parte, quse retinetur id cogatur loqui, quod ipsi jubent.”—Ludovic. 
Vives, de Civ. Dei, 1. viii. c. 10. [From the times of Aristotle and Plato to Alexander 
Aphrosideus, who lived under the Emperor Severus and his sons, the works of Aristotle 
were much more mentioned than read or undei’stood by scholars. He first attempted 
to explain them, and forwarded the studies of many, and stimulated them to investi¬ 
gate the works of that philosopher. However, Plato was more usual and familiar in 
men’s hands until schools were publicly established in Italy and Gaul, that is, as long 
as the Greek and Latin languages flourished. But after learning became.a mere 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


442 


That Aristotle’s works have of late fallen into general neglect, is 
a common subject of complaint among his idolaters. It would be 
nearer the truth to say, that the number of Aristotle’s rational and 
enlightened admirers was never so great as at the present moment. 
In the same proportion in which his logic has lost its credit, his 
ethics, his politics, his poetics, his rhetoric, and his natural history 
have risen in the public estimation. No similar triumph of genius 
is recorded in the annals of philosophy :—to subjugate, for so many 
centuries, the minds of men, by furnishing employment (unproduc¬ 
tive as it was) to their intellectual faculties, at a time when the low 
state of experimental knowledge did not supply more substantial 
materials for their reasonings ;—and afterwards, when at the distance 
of two thousand years, the light of true science began to dawn, to 
contribute so large a share to its growing splendour. 

In the course of the foregoing animadversions on the syllogistic 
theory, I have proceeded on the supposition that the whole glory 
of the invention belongs to Aristotle. It is proper, however, before 
dismissing the subject, to take some notice of the doubts which have 
been suggested upon this head, in consequence of the lights recently 
thrown on the remains of ancient science still existing in the East. 
Father Pons, a Jesuit missionary, was, I believe, the first person 
who communicated to the learned of Europe the very interesting 
fact, that the use of the syllogism is, at this day, familiarly known 
to the Brahmins of India ;* but this information does not seem to 
have attracted much attention in England, till it was corroborated 
by the indisputable testimony of Sir William Jones, in his third 
discourse to the Asiatic Society, delivered in 1786. “ It will be 

sufficient,” he observes, “ in this dissertation to assume, what might 
be proved beyond controversy, that we now live among the adorers 
of those very deities who were worshipped under different names in 
old Greece and Italy, and among the professors of those philoso¬ 
phical tenets which the Ionic and Attic writers illustrated with all 


theatrical display, and all its fruits supposed to be the acquiring a power, by means of 
worthless skill and words arbitrarily invented, to silence an adversary and throw dust 
in his eyes, the logical treatises of Aristotle seemed better suited to the purpose than 
those on physics, to the neglect of many of his admirable works ; but Plato and his 
doctrine were never mentioned, because he was not understood by them, though Aris¬ 
totle was still less so. Not that I consider Aristotle inferior or less learned than 
Plato, but that it is intolerable that Plato, a most divine philosopher, should be 
neglected, and Aristotle so read, that the better sort of his works being rejected, those 
which were retained were made to express what they thought proper.] 

A remark similar to this is made by Bayle. “ Ce qui doit etonner le plus les 
homines sages, c’est que les professeurs se soient si furieusement entetez des hypo¬ 
theses philosophiques d’Aristote. Si l’on avoit eu cette prevention pour sa poetique, 
et pour sa rhe'torique, il y auroit moins de sujet de s’etonner; mais, on s’est entete du 
plus foible de ses ouvrages, je veux dire, de sa logique et de sa physique.”—Bayle, art. 
Aristote. [It must especially astonish men of learning that professors were so infa¬ 
tuated about the philosophical theories of Aristotle. If they had such a prejudice for 
his poetics or for his rhetorics, there would be less reason to be astonished ; but they 
were infatuated about the least valuable of his works, I mean his logics and physics.] 

* Lettres Bdifiantes et Curieuses, [Edifying and Curious Letters,] tome xxvi. (old 
edition.)—Tome xiv. edit, of 1781. The letter is dated 1740. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


443 

the beauties of their melodious language. On one hand we see the 
trident of Neptune, the eagle of Jupiter, the satyrs of Bacchus, the 
bow of Cupid, and the chariot of the sun; on another we hear the 
cymbals of Rhea, the songs of the Muses, and the pastoral tales of 
Apollo Nomius. In more retired scenes, in groves, and in semina¬ 
ries of learning, we may perceive the Brahmins and the Sermanes 
mentioned by Clemens, disputing in the form of logic, or discours¬ 
ing on the vanity of human enjoyments, on the immortality of the 
soul, her emanation from the eternal mind, her debasement, wan¬ 
derings, and final union with her source. The six philosophical 
schools, whose principles are explained in the Dersana Sastra, com¬ 
prise all the metaphysics of the old academy, the Stoa and the 
Lyceum; nor is it possible to read the Vedanta, or the many fine 
compositions in illustration of it, without believing that Pythagoras 
and Plato derived their sublime theories from the same source with 
the sages of India.”* (Works of Sir William Jones, vol. i. p. 28.) 

In a subsequent discourse, the same author mentions “ a tradi¬ 
tion which prevailed, according to the well-informed author of the 
Dabistan, in the Panjab, and in several Persian provinces, that, 
among other Indian curiosities which Callisthenes transmitted to 
his uncle, was a technical system of logic, which the Brahmins had 
communicated to the inquisitive Greek, and which the Mahomme- 
dan writer supposes to have been the groundwork of the famous 
Aristotelian method. If this be true,” continues Sir W. Jones,— 
and none will dispute the justness of his remark, “ it is one of the 
most interesting facts that I have met with in Asia.” (Eleventh 
Discourse, delivered in 1794.) 

Of the soundness of the opinion concerning the origin of the 
Greek philosophy, to which these quotations give the sanction of an 
authority so truly respectable, our stock of facts is as yet too scanty 
to enable us to form a competent judgment. Some may perhaps 
think that the knowledge of the Aristotelian logic which exists in 
India, may be sufficiently accounted for by the Mahommedan con¬ 
quests, and by the veneration in which Aristotle was held, from a 
very early period, by the followers of the prophet.f On the other 

* In the same discourse, we are informed, that “ the Hindoos have numerous works 
on grammar, logic, rhetoric, music, which are extant and accessible.” An examina¬ 
tion of these is certainly an object of literary curiosity, highly deserving of farther 
attention. 

t( La philosophie Peripatetique s’est tellement etablie par tout, qu’on n’en lit 
plus d’autre par toutes les universites Chretiennes. Celles memes, qui sont contraintes 
de reqevoir les impostures de Mahomet, n’enseignent les sciences que conformement 
aux principes du Lycee, auxquels ils s’attachent si fort, qu’Averroes, Alfarabius, Al- 
bumassar, et assez d’autres philosophes Arabes se sont souvent eloignes des sentiments 
de leur prophete, pour ne pas contredire ceux d’Aristote, que les Turcs ont en leur 
idiome Turquesque et en Arabe, comme Belon la rapporte.”—[The Peripatetic philo¬ 
sophy is so established everywhere, that no other is studied in any Christian univer¬ 
sity. Those even who are obliged to receive the impostures of Mahomet, teach the 
sciences according to the principles of the Lyceum ; to which they are so strongly 
attached, that Averroes, Alfarabius, Albumassar, and many other Arabian philo¬ 
sophers, have often relinquished the doctrines of their prophet, that they might not 


444 ; 


PART II. 


CHAP. VI. 


hand, it must be acknowledged that this part of Aristotle’s works 
contains some intrinsic evidence of aid borrowed from a more an¬ 
cient school. Besides that imposing appearance which it exhibits 
of systematic completeness in its innumerable details; and which 
we can scarcely suppose that it could have received from the original 
inventor of the art, there is a want of harmony or unity in some of 
its fundamental principles, which seems to betray a combination of 
different and of discordant theories. I allude more particularly to 
the view which it gives of the nature of science and of demonstra¬ 
tion, compared with Aristotle’s well-known opinions concerning the 
natural progress of the mind in the acquisition of knowledge. That 
the author of the Organon was fully aware of an incongruity so 
obvious, there can be little doubt; and it was not improbably with a 
view to disguise or to conceal it, that he was induced to avoid, as 
much as possible, every reference to examples; and to adopt that 
abstract and symbolical language which might divert the attention 
from the inanity of his demonstrations, by occupying it in a perpe¬ 
tual effort to unriddle the terms in which they are expressed. 

Nor does there seem to be anything in these suggestions (which 
I hazard with much diffidence) inconsistent with Aristotle’s own 
statement, in the concluding chapter of the book of Sophisms. 
This chapter has indeed (as far as I know) been universally under¬ 
stood as advancing a claim to the whole art of syllogism ;* but I 

contradict those of Aristotle, which the Turks have both in Turkish and Arabic, as 
Belon informs us.]—La Motte le Vayer ; quoted by Bayle, art. Aristote. 

“ L’Auteur, dont j’ernprunte ces paroles, dit dans un autre volume, que, selon la 
relation d’Olearius, les Perses ont toutes les oeuvres d’Ai’istote, expliquees par beau- 
coup de commentaires Arabes. ‘Bergeron (dit-il) remarque, dans son Traite des 
Tartares, qu’ils possedent les livres d’Aristote, traduits en leur langue, enseignant, 
avec autant de soumission qu’on peut faire ici, sa doctrine a Samarcand, universite du 
Grand Mogul, et a present ville capitale du royaume d’Usbec.”’ [The author from 
whom I borrow these expressions states, in another volume, that, according to the 
account of Olearius, the Persians have all the works of Aristotle expounded by many 
Arabic commentaries. “ Bergeron (he observes) remarks in his treatise respecting 
the Tartars, that they possess the books of Aristotle translated into their language ; 
and his doctrine cannot be taught with greater deference here than at Samarcand, a 
university of the Great Mogul, and the present capital of the kingdom of Usbec.”] 

In the eighth volume of the Asiatic Researches, there is a paper by Dr. Balfour; 
containing some curious extracts (accompanied with an English version) from a Per¬ 
sian translation of an Arabic treatise, entitled the “ Essence of Logic.” In the intro¬ 
duction to these extracts, Dr. Balfour mentions it as an indisputable fact, that “ the 
system of logic generally ascribed to Aristotle, constitutes, at this time, the logic of all 
the nations of Asia who profess the Mahomedan faith ; and it seems to have been with 
a view of rendering this fact still more palpable to common readers, that the author 
has taken the trouble to translate, through the medium of the Persian, the Arabic ori¬ 
ginal ; from which language the knowledge of Aristotle’s logic, possessed by the orien¬ 
tals, is supposed to have been derived. 

* *• The conclusion of this treatise,”the book of Sophisms, “ought not to be over¬ 
looked ; it manifestly relates, not to the present treatise only, but also to the whole 
Analytics and Topics of the author.”—Reid’s Analysis, &c. chap. v. sec. iii. Wright’s 
edition, London, 1843. 

If I were satisfied that this observation is just, I should think that nothing short of 
the most irresistible evidence could be reasonably opposed to the direct assertion of 
Aristotle. It is quite inconceivable that he should have wilfully concealed or misre¬ 
presented the truth, at a period when there could not fail to be many philosophers in 
Greece, both able and willing to expose the deception. 


OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 


445 

must acknowledge that it appears to me to admit of a very fair 
construction, without supposing the claim to comprehend all the 
doctrines delivered in the books of Analytics. In support of this 
idea it may be remarked, that while Aristotle strongly contrasts the 
dialectical art, as taught in the preceding treatise, with the art of 
disputation as previously practised in Greece, he does not make the 
slightest reference to the distinction between demonstrative and 
dialectical syllogisms, or to those doctrines with respect to demon¬ 
stration and science, which accord so ill with the general spirit of 
his philosophy. It does not seem, therefore, to be a very unreason¬ 
able supposition, that to these doctrines , (with which for many rea¬ 
sons he might judge it expedient to incorporate his own inventions 
and innovations,) he only gave that systematical and technical form , 
which , by its peculiar phraseology and other imposing appendages, 
was calculated at once to veil their imperfections, and to gratify the 
vanity of those who should make them objects of study . It is 
surely not impossible that the syllogistic theory may have existed 
as a. subject of abstract speculation long before any attempt was 
made to introduce the syllogism into the schools as a weapon of 
controversy, or to prescribe rules for the skilful and scientific 
management of a viva voce dispute. 

It is true that Aristotle’s language, upon this occasion, is some¬ 
what loose and equivocal; but it must be remembered, that it was 
addressed to his contemporaries, who were perfectly acquainted 
with the real extent of his merits as an inventor; and to whom, 
accordingly, it was not necessary to state his pretensions in terms 
more definite and explicit. 

I shall only add, that this conjecture, supposing it for a moment 
to be sanctioned by the judgment of the learned, would still leave 
Aristotle in complete possession of by far the most ingenious and 
practical part of the scholastic logic ;* while, at the same time,— 
should future researches verify the suspicions of Sir William Jones 
and others, that the first rudiments of the art were imported into 

* This was plainly the opinion of Cicero : “ In hac arte,” he observes, speaking of 
the dialectical art, as it was cultivated by the Stoics, “ in hac arte, si modo est hsec ars, 
nullum est prseceptum quomodo verum inveniatur, sed tantum est quomodo judicetur.’ > 
And a few sentences after ; “ Quare istam artem totam dimittamus, quse in excogi- 
tandis argjimentis muta nimium est, in judicandis minium loquax.” (De Orat. lib. ii. 
86, 87.) [In this science, if it be a science, there is no precept for finding out the 
truth, but only for judging about it.—Wherefore let us give no farther thought to that 
science which is too little communicative in seeking out arguments, and too much so 
in judging about them.] The first sentence is literally applicable to the doctrine of 
syllogism considered theoretically ; the second contrasts the inutility of this doctrine 
with the importance of such subjects as are treated of in Aristotle’s Topics. 

Whether Cicero and Quinctilian did not overrate the advantages to be derived from 
the study of the Loci as an organ of invention, is a question altogether foreign to our 
present inquiries. That it was admirably adapted for those argumentative and rhe¬ 
torical displays which were so highly valued in ancient times, there can be no doubt, 
after what these great masters of oratory have written on the subject; but it does not 
follow that, in the present state of society, it would reward the labours of those who 
wish to cultivate either the eloquence of the bar, or that which leads to distinction m 
our popular assemblies. 


446 


PART IT. 


CIIAP. VI. 


Greece from the East, it would contribute to vindicate his character 
against that charge of plagiarism, and of unfairness towards his 
predecessors, which has been admitted even by some who speak 
with the most unbounded reverence of his intellectual endowments. 

[From the logic of Aristotle, I now proceed to that of Lord 
Bacon; a logic which professes to guide us systematically in inves¬ 
tigating the laws of nature, and in applying the knowledge thus 
acquired to the enlargement of human power, and the augmenta¬ 
tion of human happiness.] 

Of some of the fundamental rules by which this mode of philoso¬ 
phising is more peculiarly distinguished, I intend to treat at con¬ 
siderable length;—directing my attention chiefly to such questions 
as are connected with the theory of our intellectual faculties. In 
this point of view, the author has left much to be supplied by his 
successors; the bent of his own genius having fortunately deter¬ 
mined him rather to seize, by a sort of intuitive penetration, great 
practical results, than to indulge a comparatively sterile curiosity, 
by remounting to the first sources of experimental knowledge in the 
principles and laws of the human frame. It is to this humbler task 
that I propose to confine myself in the sequel. To follow him 
through the details of his Method, would be inconsistent with the 
nature of my present undertaking. 


CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY POINTED OUT IN THE EXPERIMENTAL 
OR INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 

I. Mistakes of the Ancients concerning the proper Object of Philo¬ 
sophy.—Ideas of Bacon on the same subject.—Inductive Reasoning .— 
Analysis and Synthesis.—Essential difference between Legitimate and 
Hypothetical Theories .—I have had occasion to observe more than 
once, in the course of the foregoing speculations, that the object of 
physical science is not to trace necessary connexions, but to ascer¬ 
tain constant conjunctions; not to investigate the nature of those 
efficient causes on which the phenomena of the universe ultimately 
depend, but to examine with accuracy what the phenomena are, 
and what the general laws by which they are regulated. 

In order to save repetitions, I here beg leave to refer to some 
observations on this subject in the First Part. I request more 
particularly the reader’s attention to what I have said in the second 
section of the first chapter, on the distinction between physical and 
efficient causes; and on the origin of that bias of the imagination 
which leads us to confound them under one common name. That, 
when we see two events constantly conjoined as antecedent and 
consequent, our natural apprehensions dispose us to associate the 
idea of causation or efficiency with the former, and to ascribe to it 



OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 447 

that power or energy by which the change was produced, is a fact 
obvious and unquestionable; and hence it is, that in all languages 
the series of physical causes and effects is metaphorically likened to 
a chain, the links of which are supposed to be indissolubly and 
necessarily connected. The slightest reflection, at the same time, 
must satisfy us that these apprehensions are inconsistent, and even 
absurd; our knowledge of physical events reaching no farther than 
to the laws which regulate their succession; and the words power 
and energy expressing attributes not of matter but of mind. It is 
by a natural bias or association somewhat similar (as I have remarked 
in the section above mentioned) that we connect our sensations of 
colour with the primary qualities of body.* 

This idea of the object of physical science (which may be justly 
regarded as the groundwork of Bacon’s Novum Organon ) differs 
essentially from that which was entertained by the ancients; accord¬ 
ing to whom “ Philosophy is the science of causes.” If, indeed, by 
causes they had meant merely the constant forerunners or antece¬ 
dents of events, the definition would have coincided nearly with the 
statement which I have given. But it is evident that by causes 
they meant such antecedents as were necessarily connected with the 
effects, and from a knowledge of which the effects might be foreseen 
and demonstrated: and it was owing to this confusion between the 
proper objects of physics and of metaphysics, that, neglecting the 
observation of facts exposed to the examination of their senses, they 
vainly attempted, by synthetical reasoning, to deduce, as necessary 
consequences from their supposed causes, the phenomena and laws 
of nature.—“ Causa ea est,” says Cicero, “ quae id efficit cujus est 
causa. Non sic causa intelligi debet, ut quod cuique antecedat, id 
ei causa sit; sed quod cuique efficienter antecedat.—Itaque dicebat 
Carneades ne Apollinem quidem posse dicere futura, nisi ea quorum 
causas natura ita contineret, ut ea fieri necesse esset. Causis enim 
efficientibus quamque rem cognitis, posse denique sciri quid futu- 
rum esset.” f 

* Were it not for this bias of the imagination to identify efficient with physical causes, 
the attention would be continually diverted from the necessary business of life, and the 
useful exercise of our faculties suspended, in a fruitless astonishment at that hidden 
machinery over which nature has drawn an impenetrable veil. To prevent this 
inconvenient distraction of thought, a farther provision is made in that gradual and 
imperceptible process by which the changes in the state of the universe are, in general, 
accomplished. If an animal or a vegetable were brought into being before our eyes, 
in an instant of time,—the event would not be in itself more wonderful than their slow 
growth to maturity from an embryo, or from a seed. But, on the former supposition, 
there is no man-who would not perceive and acknowledge the immediate agency of an 
intelligent cause ; whereas, according to the actual order of things, the effect steals 
so insensibly on the observation, that it excites little or no curiosity, excepting in 
those who possess a sufficient degree of reflection to contrast the present state of the 
objects around them, with their first origin, and with the progressive stages of their 
existence. 

t [A cause is that which produces the thing of which it is a cause. We should not 
understand by cause that which precedes anything, but which productively precedes 
it. On this account, Carneades said, that even Apollo could not predict future 
things, except those, the causes of which nature so contained, that they must neces- 


448 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


From this disposition to confound efficient with physical causes, 
may be traced the greater part of the theories recorded in the his¬ 
tory of philosophy. It is this which has given rise to the attempts, 
both in ancient and modern times, to account for all the phenomena 
of moving bodies by means of impulse;* (see Philosophy of the 
Human Mind, vol. i. chap. i. sec. 2;) and it is this also which has 
suggested the simpler expedient of explaining them by the agency 
of minds united with the particles of matter.f As the communica¬ 
tion of motion by apparent impulse, and our own power to produce 
motion by a volition of the mind, are two facts, of which, from our 

sarily come to pass. For the causes producing each tiling being known, then it can 
be known what will come to pass.] De Fato, 48, 49. The language of Aristotle is 
equally explicit. E-rrunaadaL 5e oio/xeO eKcurrov air\ws, p. 77 rov (Totyi&TiKov rpoiroi 

tov Kara (Tvju.f}e(3r)KOS, orav rrjv t aiTLav OLCo/aeOa yivwaKeiv, Si ijv to irpaypa €(Ttlv, 6tl 
eKeivov aiTia cttl, Kai p.rj evSex^Tai tout ’ aWcos cx^lv. Scire autem putamus unam- 
quamque rem simpliciter, non sophistico modo, id est ex accidenti, cum putamus 
causam cognoscere propter qiiam res est, ejus rei caussam esse, nec posse earn aliter 
se habere.—[We think that we know each thing simply, and not in a sophistical 
manner, according to what is accidental, when we think that we know the cause by 
which a thing is, that it is the cause, and that it is not possible that the thing should 
be otherwise.]—Analyt. Poster, lib. i. cap. 2. 

Nothing, however, can place in so strong a light Aristotle’s idea of the connexion 
between physical causes and effects, as the analogy which he conceived it to bear to 
the connexion between the links of a mathematical chain of reasoning. Nor is this 
mode of speaking abandoned by his modern followers. “ To deny a first cause,” says 
Dr. Gillies, “ is to deny all causation : to deny axioms is, for the same reason, to deny 
all demonstration.”—(Vol. i. p. 108.). And in another passage : “ We know a mathe¬ 
matical proposition, when we know the causes that make it true. In demonstration, 
the premises are the causes of the conclusion, and therefore prior to it. We cannot, 
therefore, demonstrate things in a circle, supporting the premises by the conclusion ; 
because this would be to suppose, that the one proposition could be both prior and 
posterior to the other.”—(Ibid. p. 96). Can one mathematical theorem be said to be 
prior to another in any other sense, than in l'espect of the order in which they are 
first presented to our knowledge ? 

* With respect to the connexion between impulse and motion, I have the misfortune 
to differ from my very learned and highly respected friend M. Prevost of Geneva ; 

whose opinions on this point may be collected from the two following sentences :_“ La 

cause differe du simple signe precurseur, par sa force, ou son energie productive.— 
L’impulsion est un phenomene si commun, soumis a des lois si bien discutees, et si 
universelles, que toute cause qui s’y reduit semble former une classe eminente, et 
mWriter seule le nom d’Agent.”—Essais de Philosophie, tome ii. p. 174, 175. [A cause 
differs from a mere preceding'sign, by its power or productive energy. Impulse is a 
phenomenon so common, subject to laws so thoroughly canvassed, and so general, that 
every cause which resolves itself into it, seems to belong to a superior class, and alone 
worthy of being styled an agent.—Essays ou Philosophy.] 

I have read with great attention all that M. Prevost has so ingeniously urged in 
vindication of the theory of his illustrious countryman Le Sage ; but without expe¬ 
riencing that conviction which I have in general received from his reasonings. The 
arguments of Locke and Hume on the other side of the question appear to my judg¬ 
ment, the longer I reflect on them, the more irresistible ; not to mention the powerful 
support which they derive from the subsequent speculations 
Locke’s Essay, b. ii. chap. 23, sec. 28, 29 ; and Hume’s Essay on 
Part I.) 

In employing the word misfortune, on this occasion, I have no wish to pay an 
unmeaning compliment; but merely to express the painful diffidence which I always 
feel in my own conclusions, when they happen to be at variance with those of a writer 
equally distinguished by the depth and by the candour of his philosophical researches. 

f To this last class of theories may also be referred the explanations of physical 
phenomena by such causes as sympathies, antipathies, Nature’s horror of a void, &c. 
and other phrases borrowed by analogy from the attributes of animated beings. 


of Boscovich. (See 
Necessary Connexion, 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 449 

earliest infancy, we have every moment had experience; we are 
apt to fancy that we understand perfectly the nexus by which 
cause and effect are here necessarily conjoined; and it requires a 
good deal of reflection to satisfy us that, in both cases, we are as 
completely in the dark as in our guesses concerning the ultimate 
causes of magnetism or of gravitation. The dreams of the Pytha¬ 
gorean school with respect to analogies or harmonies between the 
constitution of the universe and the mathematical properties of 
figures and of numbers, were suggested by the same idea of neces¬ 
sary connexions existing among physical phenomena, analogous to 
those which link together the theorems of geometry or of arith¬ 
metic ; and by the same fruitless hope of penetrating, by abstract 
and synthetical reasoning, into the mysterious processes of nature. 

Beside this universal and irresistible bias of the imagination, 
there were some peculiarities in the genius and scientific taste of 
Aristotle, which gave birth to various errors calculated to mislead 
his followers in their physical inquiries. Among these errors may 
be mentioned, as one of the most important, the distinction of 
causes (introduced by him) into the efficient, the material, the 
formal, and the final;—a distinction which, as Dr. Reid justly 
observes, amounts only, like many other of Aristotle’s, to an expla¬ 
nation of the different meanings of an ambiguous word; and which, 
therefore, was fitter for a dictionary of the Greek language, than 
for a philosophical treatise. (Analysis of Aristotle’s Logic, chap. ii. 
sect. 3.) Of the effect of this enumeration of causes in distracting 
the attention, some idea may be formed, when it is recollected, 
that, according to Aristotle, it is the business of the philosopher 
to reason demonstratively from all the four. (Nat. Auscult. lib. ii. 
cap. 7.) 

The same predilection of Aristotle for logical or rather verbal 
subtilties, encouraged, for many ages, that passion for fanciful and 
frivolous distinctions which is so adverse to the useful exercise of 
the intellectual powers. Of its tendency to check the progress of 
physical knowledge, the reader will be enabled to judge for him¬ 
self, by perusing the 16th and 17th chapters of Mr. Harris’s Philo¬ 
sophical Arrangements; which chapters contain a very elaborate 
and not inelegant view of what the author is pleased to call the 
ancient Theory of Motion. A later writer of the same school has 
even gone so far as to assert, that it is such researches alone which 
merit the title of the Philosophy of Motion; and that the conclu¬ 
sions of Galileo and of Newton,—amounting, as they unquestionably 
do, to nothing more than a classification and generalization of facts, 

_deserve no higher an appellation than that of Natural History. 

(Ancient Metaphysics, passim.) . 

In contrasting, as I have now done, the spirit of Bacon’s mode 
of philosophizing with that of the ancients, I do not mean to extol 
his own notions concerning the relation of cause and effect in phy¬ 
sics, as peculiarly correct and consistent. On the contrary, it seems 

G G 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


450 


to me evident, that he was led to his logical conclusions, not by any 
metaphysical analysis of his ideas, but by a conviction, founded on 
a review of the labours of his predecessors, that the plan of inquiry 
by which they had been guided must have been erroneous. [If he 
had perceived as clearly as Barrow, Berkeley, Hume, and many 
others have done since his time,* that there is not a single instance 
in which we are able to trace a necessary connexion between two 
successive events, or to explain in what manner the one follows 
from the other as an infallible consequence, he would have been 
naturally led to state his principles in a form far more concise and 
methodical, and to lay aside much of that scholastic jargon by 
which his meaning is occasionally obscured.] Notwithstanding, 
however, this vagueness and indistinctness in his language, his 
comprehensive and penetrating understanding, enlightened by a 
discriminating survey of the fruitless inquiries of former ages, 
enabled him to describe, in the strongest and happiest terms, the 
nature, the object, and the limits of philosophical investigation. 
The most valuable part of his works, at the same time, consist, per¬ 
haps, in his reflections on the errors of his predecessors, and on the 
various causes which have retarded the progress of the sciences 
and the improvement of the human mind. That he should have 
executed with complete success a system of logical precepts for the 
prosecution of experimental inquiries, at a period when these were, 
for the first time, beginning to engage the attention of the curious, 
was altogether impossible ; and yet in his attempt towards this 
undertaking, he has displayed a reach of thought and a justness of 
anticipation, which, when compared with the discoveries of the two 
succeeding centuries, seem frequently to partake of the nature of 
prophecy. “ Prout Physica majora indies incrementa capiet, et 
nova axiomata educet, eo mathematicae nova opera in multis in- 
digebit, et plures demum fient mathematicae mixtae.”f (De Aug. 


* In alluding to the relation between cause and effect, Bacon sometimes indulges 
his fancy in adopting metaphorical and popular expressions. “ Namque in limine 
Philosophise, cum secundse causae, tanquam sensibus proximae, ingerant se menti 
humanae, mensque ipsa in illis haereat, atque commoretur, oblivio primae causae obre- 
pere possit. Sin quis ulterius pergat, causarumque dependentiam, seriem, et concate- 
nationem, atque opera providentiae intueatur, tunc secundum poetarum mythologiam, 
facile credit, summum naturalis catenae annulum pedi solii Jovis affigi.” (Ue Aug. 
Scient. Lib. i.) [For, in the first stage of philosophy, when second causes, as if nearer 
to our senses, insinuate themselves into the mind, and it serves them, and dwells on 
them, a forgetfulness of the First Cause may take place. But if the mind proceed 
further, and regard the dependence, continuity, concatenation of causes, and the works 
of Providence, it will readily come to the conclusion drawn, as it were, from the mytho¬ 
logy of the poets, that the highest link of the chain of nature is fastened to the base of 
Jove’s throne.—On the Advancement of Learning.] This is very nearly the language 
of Seneca. “ Cum fatum nihil aliud sit quam series implexa causarum, ilia est prima 
omnium causa ex qua ceterae pendant.” [Since fate is nothing else than a connected 
chain of causes, that is, the first cause of all, on which the rest depend.] 

In other instances, he speaks (and, in my opinion, much more philosophically) of 
the u opus quod operatur Deus a primordio usque ad finem a branch of knowledge 
which he expressly describes as placed beyond the examination of the human faculties. 
But this speculation, although the most interesting that can employ our thoughts, has 
no immediate connexion with the logic of physical science.—See note l l. * 

t C As Physics will daily receive greater additions, and bring to light new axioms, on 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 451 

Scient. lib. iii. cap. vi.) Had he foreseen all the researches of the 
Newtonian school, his language could not have been more precise 
or more decided. 

“ Bacon,” it has been observed by Mr. Hume, “ was ignorant of 
geometry, and only pointed out at a distance the road to true philo¬ 
sophy-” “ As an author and philosopher,” therefore, this historian 
pronounces him, (e though very estimable, yet inferior to his con¬ 
temporary Galileo, perhaps even to Kepler.”—(History of England; 
Appendix to the reign of James I.) The parallel is by no means 
happily imagined; inasmuch as the individuals whom it brings into 
contrast, directed their attention to pursuits essentially different, 
and were characterised by mental powers unsusceptible of compa¬ 
rison. As a geometer or astronomer. Bacon has certainly no claim 
whatever to distinction; nor can it even be said that, as an expe¬ 
rimentalist, he has enriched science by one important discovery; 
but, in just and enlarged conceptions of the proper aim of philo¬ 
sophical researches, and of the means of conducting them, how far 
does he rise above the level of his age! Nothing, indeed, can 
place this in so strong a light as the history of Kepler himself; 
unquestionably one of the most extraordinary persons who adorned 
that memorable period, but deeply infected, as his writings show, 
with prejudices borrowed from the most remote antiquity. The 
mysterious theories of the Pythagoreans which I formerly men¬ 
tioned, and which professed to find in the mathematical properties 
of figures and numbers, an explanation of the system of the universe, 
seem, from one of his earlier publications, to have made a strong 
impression on his imagination ;* while, at an after period of life, 

that account they will require new aids from mathematics on various points, and 
mixed mathematics will become more extensive.—On the Advancement of Knowledge.] 
By the word Axiom, Bacon means a general principle obtained by induction, from 
which we may safely proceed to reason synthetically. It is to be regretted, that he 
did not make choice of a less equivocal term, as Newton has plainly been misled by his 
example, in the very illogical application of this name to the laws of motion, and to 
those general facts which serve as the basis of our reasonings in catoptrics and 
dioptrics. (See p. 303, &c. of this volume.) 

I shall take this opportunity to remark, that Newton had evidently studied Bacon’s 
writings with care ; and has followed them, sometimes too implicitly, in his logical 
phraseology. Of this remark various other proofs will occur afterwards. 

* Mysterium Cosmographicum, de admirabili proportione orbium coelestium deque 
causis ccelorum numeri, magnitudinis, motuumque periodicorum genuinis et propriis, 
demonstratum per quinque regularia corpora Geometrica, 1598. [Cosmographical 
Mystery, concerning the admirable proportion of the celestial Orbits, and genuine and 
pi’oper causes of the number, magnitude, and periodical motions of the Heavens, demon¬ 
strated by means of the five regular Geometrical Bodies.] Kepler informs us, that he 
sent a copy of this book to Tycho Brahe ; the subject of whose answer he has had the 
candour to record. “ Argumentum literarum Braliei hoc erat, ut suspensis specula- 
tionibus a priori descendentibus, animum potius ad observationes quas simul oflerebat, 
considerandas adjicerem, inque iis primo gradu facto, postea demum ad causas ascen- 
derem.” [The subject of Brahe’s letter was this, that, laying aside speculations, 
a priori, I should rather direct my mind to the observations which he made at the same 
time, and having commenced with these, ascend to the causes.] To this excellent 
advice the subsequent discoveries which have immortalized the name of Kepler, may, 
in the opinion of Mr. Maclaurin, be ascribed.—Account of Newton’s Discoveries, 
book i. chap. iii. 


g o 2 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


452 


lie indulged himself in a train of thinking about the causes of the 
planetary motions, approaching to the speculations of the late 
learned author of Ancient Metaphysics. 

“ Nego,” says he, in his Commentaries on the planet Mars, 
“ ullum rnotuin perennem non rectum a Deo conditum esse prse- 
sidio mentali destitutum.—Hujus motoris manifestum est duo fore 
munia; alterum ut facultate polleat transvectandi corporis; alterum 
ut scientist prseditus sit inveniendi circularem limitem per illam 
puram auram setheriam nullis liujusmodi regionibus distinctam.”* 
In another part of his work, he seriously gives it as his opinion, 
that the minds of the planets must have a power of making constant 
observations on the sun’s apparent diameter, that they may thereby 
be enabled so to regulate their motions, as to describe areas pro¬ 
portional to the times. “ Credibile est itaque, si qua facultate 
prsediti sint motores illi observandse hujus diametri, earn tanto esse 
argutiorem quam sunt oculi nostri, quanto opus ejus et perennis 
motio nostris turbulentis et confusis negotiis est constantior. 

“ An ergo binos singulis planetis tribues oculos Keplere ! Ne- 
quaqam. Neque est necesse. Neque enim ut moveri possint, 
pedes ipsis atque alee sunt tribuendse.”t 

An aphorism of Lord Bacon, concerning the relation which mathematics bear to 
natural philosophy, exhibits a singular contrast to the aim and spirit of the Mysterium 
Cosmographicuin. “ In secunda schola Platonis, Procli et aliorum, naturalis philo- 
sophia infecta et corrupta fuit, per mathematicam ; quse philosophiam naturalem 
terminare, non generare aut procreare debet.” [In the second Platonic school, that 
of Proclus and others, natural philosophy was tainted and spoiled by mathematics, 
which ought to finish natural philosophy, not to generate or produce it.]—(Nov. Org. 
lib. i. Aplior. xcvi.) The very slender knowledge of this science which Bacon pro¬ 
bably possessed, renders it only the more wonderful that he should have been so 
fortunate in seizing, or rather in divining its genuine use and application, in physical 
researches. 

The ignorance of geometry with which Mr. Hume reproaches Bacon, will not appear 
surprising, when it is considered, that, sixty years after the time when he left Cam¬ 
bridge, mathematical studies were scarcely known in that University. For this fact we 
have the direct testimony of Dr. Wallis, afterwards Astronomical Professor at Oxford, 
who was admitted at Emanuel College, Cambridge, in 1632 ; and who informs us, that 
at that time, "Mathematics were scarce looked upon as academical studies, but 
rather mechanical; as the business of traders, merchants, seamen, carpenters, sur¬ 
veyors of land, and almanack-makers in London.”—“ Among more than two hundred 
students in our college, I do not know of any two who had more than I, if so much, 
which was then but little ; and but very few in that whole university. For the study 
of mathematics was then more cultivated in London than in the universities.” 

See an Account of some Passages in the Life of Dr. Wallis, written by himself, 
when he was upwards of eighty, and published by Hearne, in his edition of Langtoft’s 
Chronicle. 

The same writer, from whom this information is derived, lived to see, not only the 
institution of the Royal Society of London, but the illustration which the University 
of Cambridge derived from the names of Barrow and of Newton ; and even survived, 
for seventeen years, the publication of Newton’s Principia. That Lord Bacon’s 
writings contributed, more than any other single cause, to give this sudden impulse to 
science in England, it is impossible to doubt. 

* “ I deny that any perpetual motion other than a rectilinear one, has been produced 
by the Deity apart from intellectual guidance. There are two offices of this moving 
power,—one that it should have the faculty of conveying the body ; the other that it 
should have the skill of tracing the circular boundary through pure ether, marked 
out by no such figure.” 

t “ If those movers be endowed with the faculty of observing its diameter, we 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 453 

From such extravagances as these, how wide the transition to 
the first sentence of the Novum Organon ! “ Homo Natures minister 
et inter pres tantum facit et intelligit quantum de natures or dine re vel 
mente observaverit , nec amplius scit autpotest 

In calling man the interpreter of nature, Bacon had plainly the 
same idea of the object of physics which I attempted to convey, 
when I said, that what are commonly called the causes of pheno¬ 
mena, are only their established antecedents or signs; and the 
same analogy which this expression suggests to the fancy, has been 
enlarged upon at considerable length by the inventive and philo¬ 
sophical Bishop of Cloyne, as the best illustration which he could 
give of the doctrine in question. It would be difficult, indeed, to 
select another equally apposite and luminous; and not less difficult 
to find an author equally qualified to avail himself of its aid. I 
shall make no apology, therefore, for borrowing his words. 

“ There is a certain analogy, constancy, and uniformity in the 
phenomena or appearances of nature, which are a foundation for 
general rules; and these are a grammar for the understanding of 
nature, or that series of effects in the visible world, whereby we 
are enabled to foresee what will come to pass in the natural course 
of things. Plotinus observes, in his third Ennead, that the art of 
presaging is, in some sort, the reading of natural letters denoting 
order; and that so far forth as analogy obtains in the universe, 
there may be .vaticination. And, in reality, he that foretells the 
motions of the planets, or the effects of medicines, or the results 
of chemical or mechanical experiments, may be said to do it by 
natural vaticination. 

“ W e know a thing when we understand it, and we understand 
it when we can interpret or tell what it signifies. Strictly the 
sense knows nothing. We perceive, indeed, sounds by hearing, 
and characters by sight; but we are not therefore said to under¬ 
stand them After the same manner, the phenomena of nature 
are alike visible to all; but all have not alike learned the connex¬ 
ion of natural signs, or understand what they signify, or know 
how to vaticinate by them. There is no question, says Socrates, 
in Theseteto, concerning that which is agreeable to each person, 
but concerning what will in time to come be agreeable, of which all 
men are not equally judges. He that foreknoweth what will be, 
in every kind, is the wisest. According to Socrates, you and the 
cook may judge of a dish on the table equally well; but while the 
dish is making, the cook can better foretell what will ensue from 

must suppose that it is so much more sharp than our sight, in proportion as their per¬ 
formance and perpetual motion are more regular than our turbulent and confused 
affairs. Will you then, Kepler, assign two eyes to the planets ? By no means, neither 
is it necessary; no more than it is necessary to their motion that they should be assigned 
wings and feet.” 

* “ Man, the servant and interpreter of nature, does and understands as much as 
he actually, or by means of his intellectual powers, has observed concerning the 
order of nature ; and he neither does nor can know more.” 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


454 


this or that manner of composing it. Nor is this manner of rea¬ 
soning confined only to morals or politics, but extends also to 
natural science. 

“ As the natural connexion of signs with the things signified is 
regular and constant, it forms a sort of rational discourse, and is 
therefore the immediate effect of an intelligent cause.” * 

The same language with respect to the office and use of philo¬ 
sophy has been adopted by Reid, and at a much earlier period by 
Hobbes; and it was evidently by a similar train of thinking (as 
I already hinted) that Bacon was led to call philosophy the inter¬ 
pretation of nature. 

[According to the doctrine now stated, the highest, or rather the 
only proper object of physics , is to ascertain those established 
conjunctions of successive events which constitute the order of the 
universe; to record the phenomena which it exhibits to our ob¬ 
servations, or which it discloses to our experiments; and to refer 
these phenomena to their general laws.] While we are apt to 
fancy, therefore, (agreeably to popular conceptions and language) 
that we are investigating efficient causes, we are, in reality, only 
generalizing effects; and when we advance from discovery to dis¬ 
covery, we do nothing more than resolve our former conclusions 
into others still more comprehensive. It was thus that Galileo 
and Torricelli proceeded in proving that all terrestrial bodies gra¬ 
vitate towards the earth; and that the apparent levity of some of 
them is merely owing to the greater gravity of the atmosphere. 
In establishing this important conclusion, they only generalized 
the law of gravity, by reconciling with it a variety of seeming 
exceptions; but they threw no light whatever on that mysterious 
power, in consequence of which all these phenomena take place. 
In like manner, when Newton showed that the same law of gravity 
extends to the celestial spaces; and that the power by which the 
moon and planets are retained in their orbits is precisely similar 
in its effects to that which is manifested in the fall of a stone,— 
he left the efficient cause of gravity as much in the dark as ever, 
and only generalized still farther the conclusions of his prede¬ 
cessors. It was, indeed, the most astonishing and sublime dis¬ 
covery which occurs in the history of science;—a discovery not of 
less consequence in natural religion than in natural philosophy,— 
and which at once demonstrated (in direct contradiction to all the 
ancient systems) that the phenomena exhibited by the heavenly 
bodies are regulated by the same laws which fall under our ob¬ 
servation on the surface of this globe. Still, however, it was not the 
discovery of an efficient cause, but only the generalization of a fact.f 

* Siris : or a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries concerning the Virtues 
of Tar-Water, sec. 252, 253, 254.—8vo. edit.,—London, 1843. 

f “ The laws of attraction and repulsion are to be regarded as laws of motion, and 
these only as rules or methods observed in the production of natural effects, the efficient 
and final causes whereof are not of mechanical consideration. Certainly if the explain¬ 
ing a phenomenon be to assign its proper efficient and final cause, it should seem the 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


455 


From what has been said, it is sufficiently evident, that the ulti¬ 
mate object which the philosopher aims at in his researches, is pre¬ 
cisely the same with that which every man of plain understanding, 
however uneducated, has in view, when he remarks the events which 
fall under his observation, in order to obtain rules for the future 
regulation of his conduct. The more knowledge of this kind we 
acquire, the better can we accommodate our conduct to the established 
course of things; and the more are we enabled to avail ourselves of 
natural agents as instruments for accomplishing our purposes. It is 
with truth, therefore, that Bacon so often repeats, that “ every 
accession which man gains to his knowledge is also an accession to 
his power, and extends the limits of his empire over the world 
which he inhabits.” 

The knowledge of the philosopher differs from that information 
which is the fruit of common experience, not in kind, but in degree. 
The latter is, in general, confined to such facts as present themselves 
spontaneously to the eye: and so beautifully is the order of nature 
adapted to our wants and necessities, that while those laws in which 
we are most deeply interested are obtruded on our notice from our 
earliest infancy, others are more or less removed from the immediate 
examination of our senses, to stimulate curiosity, and to present a 
reward to industry. That a heavy body when unsupported, will 
fall downwards ; that a painful sensation would be felt, if the skin 
were punctured or lacerated; that life might be destroyed by plung¬ 
ing into a river, or by throwing one’s self headlong from a precipice, 
are facts as well known to the savage as to the philosopher, and of 
which the ignorance would be equally fatal to both. For acquiring 
this, and other information of the same sort, little else is requisite 
than the use of our perceptive organs. And accordingly, it is fami¬ 
liar to every man, long before the period that, in his maturer years, 
falls under the retrospect of memory. 

[For acquiring a knowledge of facts more recondite, observation 
and experiment must be employed ;* and, accordingly, the use of 

mechanical philosophers never explained any thing ; their province being only to 
discover the laws of nature ; that is, the general rules and methods of motion ; and 
to account for particular phenomena, by reducing them under, or showing their 
conformity to such general rules."—Berkeley’s Siris. 

u The words attraction and repulsion may, in compliance with custom, be used 
where, accurately speaking, motion alone is meant.”—“ Attraction cannot produce, and 
in that sense account for the phenomena ; being itself one of the phenomena produced 
and to be accounted for.”—Ibid. 

For some very important as well as refined observations on the respective provinces 
of physics and of metaphysics in the theory of motion, see a tract by Dr. Berkeley, 
first published at London, in 1721, and republished in the 8vo. edition of his works, 
London, 1843. The title is, De Motu ; sive de Motus principio et natura, et de causa 
communicationis Motuum. 

* To these, Condorcet adds calculation. “Bacon,” he observes, “ has revealed the 
true method of studying nature, by employing the three instruments with which she 
has furnished us for the discovery of her secrets,—observation, experiment, and calcu¬ 
lation.” (Tableau Historique des progres de l’Esprit Humain.) In this enumeration, 
it appears to me that there is a great defect in point of logical distinctness. Calcula¬ 
tion is certainly not an instrument of discovery at all analogous to experiment and 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


456 


these media forms one of the characteristical circumstances by which 
the studies of the philosopher are distinguished from the experience 
of the multitude.] How much the stock of his information must 
thereby be enlarged is sufficiently manifest. By habits of scientific 
attention, his accuracy as an observer is improved; and a precision 
is given to his judgment, essentially different from the vagueness of 
ordinary perception: by a combination of his own observations with 
those made by others, he arrives at many conclusions unknown to 
those who are prevented, by the necessary avocations of human life, 
from indulging the impulse of a speculative curiosity; while the 
experiments which his ingenuity devises, enable him to place nature 
in situations in which she never presents herself spontaneously to 
view, and to extort from her secrets over which she draws a veil to 
the eyes of others.* 

observation : it can accomplish nothing in the study of nature, till they have supplied 
the materials ; and is indeed only one of the many arts by which we are enabled to 
give a greater degree of accuracy to their results. The use of optical glasses ; of the 
thermometer and barometer ; of time-pieces ; and of all the various instruments of 
practical geometry might, with equal pi’opriety, have been added to the list. 

The advantages, at the same time, which natural philosophy has derived, in modern 
times, from the ai'ithmetical precision thus given to scientific details, must be allowed 
to be immense ; and they would be well entitled to an ample illustration in a system 
of inductive logic. To those who may wish to prosecute the subject in this view, I 
would beg leave to suggest the word mensuration as equally precise, and more com¬ 
prehensive, than the word calculation, as employed by Condorcet. 

* These primary and essential organs of accurate information (observation and ex¬ 
periment) which furnish the basis to the whole superstructure of physical science, are 
very clearly and concisely described by Boscovich, in one of his notes on Stay’s poem, 
De Systemate Mundi. “ Observations fiunt spectando id quod natura per se ipsam 
sponte exhibet: liujusmodi sunt observationes pertinentes ad astronomiam ethistoriam 
naturalem. Experimenta fiunt ponendo naturam in eas circumstantias, in quibus 
debeat agere et nobis ostendere id quod quserimus, quod pertinet ad pliysicam experi- 
mentalem. Porro et ferro et igni utimur, ac dissolvimus per vim compagem corporum, 
potissimum in chemia, et naturam quodammodo velut torquentes cogimus revelare sua 
secreta.” [Observations are made by beholding that which nature spontaneously ex¬ 
hibits. Such observations belong to astronomy and natural history. Experiments 
are made by placing nature under such circumstances that it must act and show 
to us what we seek; and this belongs to experimental physics. Still farther, we use 
both iron and fire, and violently dissolve the structure of bodies, especially in 
chemistry, and, as it were, racking nature, compel it to reveal its secrets.] 

I have elsewhere remarked, that the physical discoveries of the moderns have been 
chiefly owing to the skilful contrivance and conduct of experiments ; and that this 
method of interrogating nature was, in a great measure, unknown to the ancients. 
(Philosophical Essays, p. xxxv.) Even Aristotle himself is acknowledged, by one of 
his most devoted admirers, to have confined himself chiefly to observation ; and is, on 
this very ground, proudly contrasted with the empirical experimentalists of the present 
times. “Aristole,” says Dr. Gillies, “was contented with catching nature in the 
fact, without attempting, after the modern fashion, to put her to the torture ; and in 
rejecting experiments operose, toilsome, or painful, either to their objects or their 
authors, he was justified by the habits of thinking almost universally prevalent in his 
age and country. Educated in free and martial l’epublics, careless of wealth, because 
uncorrupted by luxury, the whole tribe of ancient philosophers dedicated themselves 
to agreeable only and liberal pursuits, with too proud a disdain of arts merely useful 
or lucrative. They ranked with the first class of citizens ; and as such, were not to 
be lightly subjected to unwholesome or disgusting employments. To bend over a 
furnace, inhaling noxious steams, to torture animals, or to touch dead bodies, ap¬ 
peared to them operations not more misbecoming their humanity than unsuitable to their 
dignity. For such discoveries as the heating and mixing of bodies offers to inquisitive 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 457 

But the observations and experiments of the philosopher are 
commonly only a step towards a farther end. This end is, first, 
to resolve particular facts into other facts more simple and compre¬ 
hensive : and, secondly, to apply these general facts (or, as they are 
usually called, these laws of nature) to a synthetical explanation of 
particular phenomena. These two processes of the mind, together 
with that judicious employment of observation and experiment 
which they presuppose, exhaust the whole business of philosophical 
investigation : and the great object of the rules of philosophizing 
is, to show in what manner they ought to be conducted. 

(1.) For the more complete illustration of this fundamental doc¬ 
trine, it is necessary for me to recur to what has been already stated 
with respect to our ignorance of efficient causes. As we can, in no 
instance, perceive the link by which two successive events are 
connected, so as to deduce, by any reasoning a priori, the one from 
the other as a consequence or effect, it follows, that when we see 
an event take place which has been preceded by a combination 
of different circumstances, it is impossible for human sagacity to 
ascertain whether the effect is connected with all the circumstances, 
or only with a part of them ; and, on the latter supposition, which 
of the circumstances is essential to the result, and which are merely 
accidental accessories or concomitants. The only way, in such a 
case, of coming at the truth, is to repeat over the experiment again 
and again, leaving out all the different circumstances successively, 
and observing with what particular combinations of them the effect 

curiosity, the naturalists of Greece trusted to slaves and mercenary mechanics, whose 
poverty or avarice tempted them to work in metals and minerals; and to produce, by 
unwearied labour those coloured and sculptured ornaments, those gems, rings, cups, 
and vases, and other admired but frivolous elegancies, of which, in the opinion of good 
judges of art, our boasted chemistry cannot produce the materials; nor, were the 
materials at hand, supply us with instruments fit to shape. The workshops of trades¬ 
men then revealed those mysteries which are now sought for in colleges and labora¬ 
tories ; and useful knowledge, perhaps, was not the less likely to be advanced, while 
the arts were confined to artists only; nor facts the more likely to be perverted, in 
order to support favourite theories, before the empiric had yet assumed the name, and 
usurped the functions of the philosopher.”—Translation of Aristotle's Ethics and 
Politics, vol. i. p. 161, 2nd edit. 

In another passage, we are told by the same author, that <( the learning of Greece 
properly terminates in the Stagirite, by whom it was finally embodied into one great 
work ; a work rather impaired than improved by the labours of succeeding ages.”— 
Ibid., p. x. of the preface. 

Notwithstanding the length of this note, I must beg leave to add to it a short extract 
from one of the aphorisms of Lord Bacon. “ Of the criteria for guiding our judgment 
among so many different and discordant schools, there is none more to be relied on, 
than that which is exhibited by their fruits ; for the fruits of any speculative doctrine, 
or the inventions which it has really produced, are, as it were, sponsors or vouchers 
for the truths which it contains. Now, it is well known, that from the philosophy of 
the Greeks, with its numerous derivative schools, hardly one experimental discovery 
can be collected which has any tendency to aid or to ameliorate the condition of man, 
or which is entitled to rank with the acknowledged principles of genuine science. 
Wherefore, as, in religion, faith is proved by its works, so, in philosophy, it were to be 
wished that those theories should be accounted vain, which,' when tried by their fruits 
are barren ; much more those which, instead of grapes and olives, have produced 
only the thorns and thistles of controversy.”—Nov. Org. lib. i. Aph. lxiii. 


PART II. 


. CHAP. VII. 


458 


is conjoined. If there be no possibility of making this separation, 
and if, at the same time, we wish to obtain the same result, the 
only method of insuring success is to combine together all the 
various circumstances which were united in our former trials. It 
is on this principle that I have attempted, in a former chapter of 
this work, to account for the superstitious observances which always 
accompany the practice of medicine among rude nations. These 
are commonly ascribed to the influence of imagination, and the low 
state of reason in the earlier periods of society; but the truth is, 
that they are the necessary and unavoidable consequences of a limited 
experience, and are to be corrected, not by mere force of intellect, 
but by a more enlarged acquaintance with the established order of 
nature.—(Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. i. 
chap. v. part ii. sect, i.) 

Observations perfectly similar to those which I made with respect 
to medicine are applicable to all the other branches of philosophy. 
Wherever an interesting change is preceded by a combination of 
different circumstances, it is of importance to vary our experiments 
in such a manner as to distinguish what is essential from what is 
accessory ; and when we have carried the decomposition as far as 
we can, we are entitled to consider the simplest combination of 
indispensable conditions as the physical cause of the event. 

[When by thus comparing a number of cases, agreeing in some 
circumstances, but differing in others, and all attended with the 
same result, a philosopher connects, as a general law of nature, the 
event with its physical cause, he is said to proceed according to the 
method of induction .] This, at least, appears to me to be the idea 
which, in general, Bacon himself annexes to the phrase ;* although 
I will not venture to affirm that he has always employed it with 
uniform precision. I acknowledge, also, that it is often used by 
very accurate writers to denote the whole of that system of rules, 
of which the process just mentioned forms the most essential and 
characteristical part. 

The same word induction is employed by mathematicians in a 
sense not altogether different. In that general formula, for 

instance, known by the name of the Binomial Theorem, having 
found that it corresponds with the table of powers raised from a 
binomial root, as far as it is carried by actual multiplication, we 
have no scruple to conclude that it holds universally. Such a proof 
of a mathematical theorem is called a proof by induction ; a mode 
of speaking obviously suggested by the previous application of this 
term to our inferences concerning the laws of nature. There is, at 
the same time, notwithstanding the obvious analogy between the 
two cases, one very essential circumstance by which they are dis- 

* “ Inductio, quse ad inventionem et demonstrationem scientiarum et artium erit 
utilis naturam separare debet, per rejectiones et exclusiones debitas,” &c. &c.—Nov. 
Org. lib. i. Aph. cv. [The induction which will be useful for the invention and demon¬ 
stration of sciences and arts, ought to sift or divide nature, by means of rejections and 
exclusions.] 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 459 

criminated ; that, in mathematical induction, we are led to our 
conclusion (as I shall afterwards endeavour to show) by a process 
of thought, which, although not conformable to the rules of legiti¬ 
mate demonstration, involves, nevertheless, a logical inference of 
the understanding with respect to an universal truth or theorem; 
whereas, in drawing a general physical conclusion from particular 
facts, we are guided merely by our instinctive expectation of the 
continuance of the laws of nature ; an expectation which, implying 
little, if any, exercise of the reasoning powers, operates alike on the 
philosopher and on the savage. 

To this belief in the permanent uniformity of physical laws, Dr. 
Reid long ago gave the name of the inductive principle. “ It is 
from the force of this principle,” he observed, “ that we immedi¬ 
ately assent to that axiom upon which all our knowledge of nature 
is built, that effects of the same kind must have the same cause. 
For effects and causes, in the operations of nature, mean nothing 
but signs, and the things signified by them. We perceive no 
proper causality or efficiency in any natural cause; but only a 
connexion established by the course of nature between it and what 
is called its effects.”—(Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap. vi. 
sec. 24.) 

A late celebrated writer, more distinguished by the singular 
variety and versatility of his talents than by the depth or soundness 
of his understanding, was pleased to consider Reid’s inductive 
principle as a fit subject of ridicule; asserting that the pheno¬ 
menon in question was easily explicable by the common principles 
of experience, and the association of ideas. “ Though no man,” 
says he, “ has had any experience of what is future, every man 
has had experience of what teas future.”* Of the shallowness of 
this solution philosophers are, I believe, now very generally con¬ 
vinced ; but even if the case were otherwise, the fact remarked 
by Reid would be equally entitled to the attention of logicians 
as the basis of all physical science, nor would it be easy to dis¬ 
tinguish it by a name less liable to objection than that which he 
has selected. 

In all Bacon’s logical rules, the authority of this law of belief is 
.virtually recognised, although it is nowhere formally stated in his 
writings; and although the doctrines connected with it do not seem 
to be easily reconcilable with some of his occasional expressions. 
It is indeed only of late that natural philosophers have been fully 
aware of its importance as the groundwork of the inductive logic; 
the earlier writers under whose review it fell having been led to 
consider it chiefly by its supposed subserviency to their metaphy¬ 
sical or to their theological speculations. Dr. Reid and M. Turgot 

* Priestley’s Examination of Reid, Beattie, and Oswald, p. 85. Some very judicious 
and decisive strictures on this theory of Priestley may be found in Dr. Campbell's 
Philosophy of Rhetoric. See note at the end of the sixth chapter of book i. 


460 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


were, so far as I know, the first who recognised its existence as an 
original and ultimate law of the understanding;—the source of all 
that experimental knowledge which we begin to acquire from the 
moment of our birth, as well as of those more recondite discoveries 
which are dignified by the name of science. It is but justice to 
Mr. Hume to acknowledge, that his Treatise of Human Nature 
furnished to Dr. Reid all the premises from which his conclusions 
were drawn; and that he is therefore fairly entitled to the honour 
of having reduced logicians to the alternative of either acquiescing 
in his sceptical inferences, or of acknowledging the authority of 
some instinctive principles of belief, overlooked in Locke’s Ana¬ 
lysis. (Note mm.) 

(£.) There is another circumstance which frequently adds to the 
difficulty of tracing the laws of nature, and which imposes on the 
philosopher while carrying on the process of induction the neces¬ 
sity of following a still more refined logic than has been hitherto 
described. When a uniformity is observed in a number of different 
events, the curiosity is roused by the coincidence, and is sometimes 
led insensibly to a general conclusion. In a few other cases, a 
multiplicity of events, which appear to common observers to be 
altogether anomalous, are found, upon a more accurate and con¬ 
tinued examination of them, to be subjected to a regular law. 
(Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. i. chap. vi. sect, iv.) The 
cycles by which the ancients predicted eclipses of the sun and 
moon; the two laws inferred by Kepler from the observations of 
Tycho Brahe; the law of refraction inferred by Snellius from the 
tables of Kircher and Scheiner,—are instances of very comprehen¬ 
sive and most important rules obtained by the mere examination 
and comparison of particulars. Such purely empirical discoveries, 
however, are confined almost entirely to optics and astronomy, in 
which the physical laws combined together are comparatively few, 
and are insulated from the influence of those incalculable accidents 
which, in general, disturb the regularity of terrestrial phenomena. 
In by far the greater number of instances, the appearances of 
nature depend on a variety of different laws, all of which are 
often combined together in producing one single event: and, 
wherever such a combination happens, although each law may 
take place with the most complete uniformity, it is likely that 
nothing but confusion will strike the mere observer. A collection 
of such results, therefore, would not advance us one step in the 
knowledge of nature; nor would it enable us to anticipate the issue 
of one new experiment. In cases of this description, before we 
can avail ourselves of our past experience, we must employ our 
reasoning powers in comparing a variety of instances together, in 
order to discover, by a sort of analysis or decomposition, the simple 
laws which are concerned in the phenomenon under consideration; 
—after which, we may proceed safely, in determining a priori what 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 461 

the result will be of any hypothetical combination of them, whether 
total or partial.* 

These observations have led us to the same conclusion with that 
which forms the great outline of Bacon’s plan of philosophising; 
and which Newton has so successfully exemplified in his inquiries 
concerning gravitation and the properties of light. While they 
point out, too, the respective provinces and uses of the analytic and 
the synthetic methods, they illustrate the etymological propriety of 
the names by which, in the Newtonian School, they are contradis¬ 
tinguished from each other. 

In fact, the meaning of the words analysis and synthesis, when 
applied to the two opposite modes of investigation in physics, is 
extremely analogous to their use in the practice of chemistry. The 
chief difference lies in this, that, in the former case, they refer to 
the logical processes of the understanding in the study of physical 
laws; in the latter, to the operative processes of the laboratory in 
the examination of material substances. 

If the foregoing remarks are well founded, they lead to the cor¬ 
rection of an oversight which occurs in the ingenious and elegant 
sketch of the History of Astronomy lately published among the 
posthumous works of Mr. Smith; and which seems calculated to 
keep out of view, if not entirely to explode, that essential distinc¬ 
tion which I have been endeavouring to establish, between the 
inductive logic of Bacon’s followers, and the hypothetical theories 
of their predecessors. 

“ Philosophy,” says Mr. Smith, “ is the science of the connect¬ 
ing principles of nature. Nature, after the largest experience that 
common observation can acquire, seems to abound with events 
which appear solitary and incoherent with all that go before them; 
which therefore disturb the easy movement of the imagination; 
which make its ideas succeed each other, if one may say so, by 
irregular starts and sallies; and which thus tend, in some measure, 
to introduce a confusion and distraction and giddiness of mind. 
Philosophy, by representing the invisible chains which bind together 
all these disjointed objects, endeavours to introduce order into this 
chaos of jarring and discordant appearances; to allay this tumult 

* “ Itaque naturae facienda est prorsus solutio et separatio ; non per ignem certe, 
sed per mentem, tanquam ignem divinum.” [So these should be made a sort of solu¬ 
tion or division of nature, not indeed by fire, but by the mind, a sort of divine fire.] 
Nov. Organ, lib. ii. Aphor. xvi. The remainder of the aphorism is equally worthy of 
attention ; in reading which, however, as well as the rest of Bacon’s philosophical 
works, I must request, for a reason afterwards to be mentioned, that the word Law 
may be substituted for Form, wherever it may occur. An attention to this circum¬ 
stance will be found of much use in studying the Novum Organon. 

A similar idea, under other metaphorical disguises, often occurs in Bacon. Con¬ 
sidering the circumstances in which he wrote, logical precision was altogether impos¬ 
sible ; yet it is astonishing with what force he conveys the spirit of the soundest philo¬ 
sophy of the eighteenth century. “ Neque enim in plauo via sita est, sed ascendendo 
et descendendo ; ascendendo primo ad axiomata, descendendo ad opera.” [For the 
way does not lie on a level, but ascending and descending ; ascending first to axioms 
descending to facts.]—-Nov. Org. lib. i. Aphor. ciii. 


462 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


of the imagination; and to restore it, when it surveys the great 
revolutions of the universe, to that tone of tranquillity and com¬ 
posure which is both most agreeable in itself, and most suitable to 
its nature. Philosophy, therefore, may be regarded as one of those 
arts which address themselves to the imagination, by rendering the 
theatre of nature a more coherent, and, therefore, a more magni¬ 
ficent, spectacle than otherwise it would have appeared to be.” 

That this is one of the objects of philosophy, and one of the 
advantages resulting from it, I very readily admit. But surely, it 
is not the leading object of that plan of inductive investigation 
which was recommended by Bacon, and which has been so skilfully 
pursued by Newton. Of all philosophical systems, indeed, hypo¬ 
thetical or legitimate, it must be allowed, that, to a certain degree, 
they both please the imagination and assist the memory, by intro¬ 
ducing order and arrangement among facts, which had the appear¬ 
ance, before, of being altogether unconnected and isolated. But it 
is the peculiar and exclusive prerogative of a system fairly obtained 
by the method of induction, that, while it enables us to arrange 
facts already known, it furnishes the means of ascertaining, by 
synthetic reasoning, those which we have no access to examine by 
direct observation. The difference, besides, among hypothetical 
theories, is merely a difference of degree, arising from the greater 
or less ingenuity of their authors; whereas legitimate theories are 
distinguished from all others, radically and essentially; and accord¬ 
ingly, while the former are liable to perpetual vicissitudes, the 
latter are as permanent as the laws which regulate the order of the 
universe. 

Mr. Smith himself has been led by this view of the object of 
philosophy, into expressions concerning the Newtonian discoveries, 
which seem to intimate, that, although he thought them far supe¬ 
rior, in point of irfgenuity, to any thing the world had seen before, 
yet, that he did not consider them as so completely exclusive of a 
still happier system in time to come, as the Newtonians are apt to 
imagine. “ The system of Newton,” he observes, “ now prevails 
over all opposition, and has advanced to the acquisition of the most 
universal empire that was ever established in philosophy. His 
principles, it must be acknowledged, have a degree of firmness and 
solidity that we should in vain look for in any other system. The 
most sceptical cannot avoid feeling this. They not only connect 
together most perfectly all the phenomena of the heavens which 
had been observed before his time; but those also which the per¬ 
severing industry and more perfect instruments of later astronomers 
have made known to us, have been either easily and immediately 
explained by the application of his principles, or have been ex¬ 
plained in consequence of more laborious and accurate calculations 
from these principles, than had been instituted before. And even 
we, while we have been endeavouring to represent all philosophical 
systems as mere inventions of the imagination, to connect together 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 463 

the otherwise disjointed and discordant phenomena of nature, have 
insensibly been drawn in to make use of language expressing the 
connecting principles of this one, as if they were the real chains 
which nature makes use of, to bind together her several operations.” 

If the view which I have given of Lord Bacon’s plan of investi¬ 
gation be just, it will follow, that the Newtonian theory of gravi¬ 
tation can, in no respect whatever, admit of a comparison with 
those, systems which are, in the slightest degree, the offspring of 
imagination; inasmuch as the principle employed to explain the 
phenomena is not a hypothesis, but a general fact established by 
induction; for which fact we have the very same evidence as for the 
various particulars comprehended under it. The Newtonian theory 
of gravitation, therefore, and every other theory which rests on a 
similar basis, is as little liable to be supplanted by the labours of 
future ages, as the mathematical conclusions of Euclid and Archi¬ 
medes. The doctrines which it involves may be delivered in 
different, and perhaps less exceptionable forms; but, till the order 
of the universe shall be regulated by new physical laws, their 
substance must for ever remain essentially the same. On the 
chains, indeed, which nature makes use of to bind together her 
several operations, Newton has thrown no light whatever; nor was 
it the aim of his researches to do so. The subjects of his reason¬ 
ings were not occult connexions, but particular phenomena, and 
general laws; both of them possessing all the evidence which can 
belong to facts ascertained by observation and experiment. From 
the one or the other of these all his inferences, whether analytical 
or synthetical, are deduced: nor is a single hypothesis involved in 
his data, excepting the authority of that law of belief which is 
tacitly and necessarily assumed in all our physical conclusions,—the 
stability of the order of nature. 

II. The Induction of Aristotle compared with that of Bacon .—In 
this section I intend to offer a few slight remarks upon an assertion 
which has been hazarded with some confidence in various late 
publications, that the method of investigation, so much extolled by 
the admirers of Lord Bacon, was not unknown to Aristotle. It is 
thus very strongly stated by the ingenious author of a memoir in 
the Asiatic Researches.—(Asiatic Researches, vol. viii. pp. 89, 90. 
London Edition.) 

“ From some of the extracts contained in this paper, it will 
appear, 1st, That the mode of reasoning by induction, illustrated 
and improved by the great Lord Yerulam, in his Organum Novum, 
and generally considered as the cause of the rapid progress of 
science in later times, was perfectly known to Aristotle, and was 
distinctly delineated by him, as a method of investigation that leads 
to certainty or truth: and 2dly, That Aristotle was likewise per¬ 
fectly acquainted, not merely with the form of induction, but with 
the proper materials to be employed in carrying it on—facts and 
experiments. We are therefore led to conclude, that all the blame 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


464 


of confining tlie human mind for so long a time in chains, by the 
force of syllogism, cannot be fairly imputed to Aristotle; nor all 
the merit of enlarging it, and setting it free, ascribed to Lord 
Verulam.” . if 

The memoir from which this passage is copied, consists of 
extracts translated (through the medium of the Persian) from an 
Arabic treatise entitled the Essence of Logic. When it was first 
presented to the Asiatic Society, the author informs us, that he 
was altogether ignorant of the coincidence of his own conclusions 
with those of Dr. Gillies; and he seems to have received much 
satisfaction from the subsequent perusal of the proofs alleged in 
support of their common opinion by that learned writer. “ From 
the perusal of this wonderful book (Dr. Gillies’s exposition of the 
ethics and politics of Aristotle) I have now the satisfaction to 
discover, that the conjectures I had been led to draw from these 
scanty materials, are completely confirmed by the opinion of an 
author who is probably better qualified than any preceding com¬ 
mentator on Aristotle’s works, to decide on this subject.”—(Ibid.) 

It is observed by Bailly, in his History of Astronomy, that, 
although frequent mention is made of attraction in the writings of 
the ancients, we must not therefore “ conclude that they had any 
precise or just idea of that law into which Newton has resolved the 
phenomena of the planetary revolutions. To their conceptions, 
this word presented the notion of an occult sympathy between 
different objects; and if any of them extended it from the descent 
of terrestrial bodies to explain the manner in which the moon was 
retained in her orbit, it was only an exhibition upon a larger scale 
of the popular error.” (Hist, de l’Astronomie Moderne, tome ii. 
pp. 555, 556.) The same author has remarked, on a different occa¬ 
sion, that, in order to judge of the philosophical ideas entertained 
at a particular period, it would be necessary to possess the dic¬ 
tionary of the age,—exhibiting the various shades of meaning 
derived from fashion or from tradition. “ The import of words,” 
he adds, “ changes with the times: their signification enlarging 
with the progress of knowledge. Languages are every moment 
perishing in detail from the variations introduced by custom: they 
grow old like those that speak them, and, like them, gradually alter 
their features and their form.” (Ibid. p. 184.) 

[If this observation be just, with respect to the attraction of the 
ancients, when compared with the attraction of Newton, it will be 
found to apply with still greater force to the induction of Aris¬ 
totle,* considered in contrast with the induction of Bacon.] 

It is well known to those who are at all conversant with Bacon’s 
writings, that, although he borrowed many expressions from the 
scholastic phraseology then in vogue, he has, in general, not only 
employed them in new acceptations, consonant to the general 
spirit of his own logic, but has, by definitions or explanations, 
* Eiraywyri. Translated Inductio by Cicero. 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


465 


endeavoured to guard his readers against the mistakes to which they 
might be exposed, from a want of attention to the innovations thus 
introduced in the use of consecrated terms. How far he judged 
wisely in adopting this plan, (which has certainly much injured his 
style in point of perspicuity,) I do not presume to decide; I wish 
only to state the fact:—his motives may be judged of from his own 
words. 

“ Nobis vero ex altera parte (quibus, quantum calamo valemus, 
inter vetera et nova in literis fcedus et commercium contrahere, 
cordi est) decretum manet, antiquitatem comitari usque ad aras ; 
atque vocabula antiqua retinere, quanquam sensum eorum et de- 
finitiones ssepius immutemus; secundum moderatum ilium et 
laudatum, in Civilibus, novandi modurn, quo rerum statu novato, 
verborum tamen solennia durent; quod notat Tacitus; eadem 
magistratuum vocabula.De Aug. Scient. lib. iii. cap. iv. 

Of these double significations, so common in Bacon's phraseology, 
a remarkable instance occurs in the use which he makes of the 
scholastic word forms. In one passage, he approves of the opi¬ 
nion of Plato, that the investigation of forms is the proper object 
of science; adding, however, that this is not true of the forms which 
Plato had in view, but of a different sort of forms, more suited to 
the grasp of our faculties.f In another passage he observes, that 
when he employs the word forms, in speaking of natural philo¬ 
sophy, he is always to be understood as meaning the laws of 
nature.^ Whether so accurate a reasoner as Locke would have 

* “ On the other hand, we have resolved to accompany antiquity as far as possible, 
since we are anxious, as far as it can be done with the pen, to make an alliance between 
what is old and new in learning. We therefore retain old terms, though we often alter 
their meaning and definitions according to that moderate and laudable mode of inno¬ 
vating in civil affairs, whereby the condition of things being changed, the usual 
names are retained ; according to the observation of Tacitus, there were the same 
names for offices.” The necessity under which the anti-Aristotelians found them¬ 
selves, in the earlier part of the 17 th century, of disguising their attack on the prevail¬ 
ing tenets, is strongly illustrated in a letter from Des Cartes to Regius. “ Pourquoi 
rejettez-vous publiquement les qualites reelles et les formes substantielles, si cheres 
aux scholastiques : J’ai declare, que je ne pretendois pas les nier, mais que je n’en 
avois pas besoin pour expliquer mes pensees.” [Why do you reject publicly real 
qualities and substantial forms, so dear to the schoolmen ? I have said that I do not 
mean to deny them, but that I did not require them to express my thoughts.] 

f “ Manifestum est, Platonem, virum sublimis ingenii (quique veluti ex rupe excelsa 
omnia circumspiciebat) in sua de ideis doctrina, formas esse verum scientiee objectum, 
vidisse ; utcunque sententise hujus verissimse fructum amiserit, formas penitus k 
materia abstractas, non in materia determinatas contemplando et prensando. Quod 
si diligenter, serio, et sincere, ad actionem, et usum, oculos convertamus ; non difficile 
erit disquirere, et notitiam assequi, quse sint illse formse, quarum cognitio res humanas 
miris modis locupletare et beare possit.”—De Augment. Scient. lib. iii. cap. iv. [It is 
clear that Plato, a man of sublime intellect, and who viewed all things as if from a lofty 
rock, perceived in his own doctrine concerning ideas, that forms are the true objects of 
knowledge, however he may have lost the fruits of this unquestionably true opinion, by 
contemplating and attempting to form a notion of forms as altogether abstracted from 
matter, and not determined in matter. Wherefore, if we diligently, seriously, and 
sincerely, turn our attention to practice and utility, it will not be difficult to investigate 
and learn what those forms are, the knowledge of which would enrich and meliorate 
human affairs in a wonderful manner.—On the Advancement of Learning.] 

+ Nos quum de formis loquimur, nil aliud intelligimus, quam leges illas, qute natu- 

H II 


PART II. 


CHAP. VII. 


466 


admitted Bacon’s general apology for so glaring an abuse of words, 
may perhaps be doubted: but, after comparing the two foregoing 
sentences, would Locke (notwithstanding his ignorance of the syllo¬ 
gistic art) have inferred, that Bacon’s opinion of the proper object 
of science was the same with that of Plato ? [The attempt to 
identify Bacon’s induction with the induction of Aristotle, is, as I 
trust will immediately appear, infinitely more extravagant. It is 
like confounding the Christian graces with the graces of heathen 
mythology.] 

The passages in which Bacon has been at pains to guard against 
the possibility of such a mistake are so numerous that it is sur¬ 
prising how any person, who had ever turned over the pages of the 
Novum Organon, should have been so unlucky as not to have 
lighted upon some one of them. The two following will suffice for 
my present purpose. 

“ In constituendo autem axiomate, forma inductionis alia quam 
adhuc in usu fuit, excogitanda est. Inductio enim quae procedit 
per enumerationem simplicem res puerilis est, et precario concludit. 
At inductio, quae ad inventionem et demonstrationem scientiarum 
et artium erit utilis, naturam separare debet, per rejectiones et 
exclusiones debitas; ac deinde post negativas tot quot sufficiunt, 
super affirmativas concludere; quod adhuc factum non est, nec 
tentatum certe, nisi tantummodo a Platone, qui ad excutiendas 
definitiones et idaeas, hac certe forma inductionis aliquatenus 
utitur. Verum ad hujus inductionis, sive demonstrationis instruc- 
tionem bonam et legitimam, quamplurima adhibenda sunt, quae 
adhuc nullius mortalium cogitationem subiere ; adeo ut in ea major 
sit consumenda opera, quam adhuc consumpta est in syllogismo. 
Atque in hac certe inductione, spes maxima sita est.” (Nov. Org. 
lib. i. Aph. cv.) * 

-“Cogitavit et illud—Restare inductionem, tanquam ulti- 

mum et unicum rebus subsidium et perfugium. Verum et hujus 
nomen tantummodo notum esse; vim et usum homines hactenus 
latuisse.” Cogitata et Visa.f 

ram aliquam simplicem ordinant et constituunt; ut calorem, lumen, pondus, in omni- 
moda materia et subjecto susceptibili. Itaque eadem res est forma calidi, aut forma 
luminis, et lex calidi, sive lex luminis.—Nov. Org. lib. ii. Aph. xvii. [When we men¬ 
tion forms, we mean nothing more than those laws which regulate and constitute any 
simple nature in a subject or matter capable of having them, as heat, light, weight; 
so that the form of heat or of light is the same as the law of heat or of light.] 

* “ In forming axioms, a form of induction should be used different from that 
hitherto practised ; for induction which proceeds by way of simple enumeration is 
puerile and uncertain in its conclusiveness. But induction which will be useful for 
the invention and demonstration of arts and sciences, ought to divide nature by proper 
•rejections and exclusions, and then after as many negatives as are necessary, to conclude 
concerning the affirmatives, which has not yet been done, nor attempted, unless by 
Plato, who has unquestionably, to a certain extent, employed this sort of induction to 
investigate definitions and ideas. But for the legitimate and sound effecting of this 
induction or demonstration, many things are requisite which hitherto have occurred to 
no one, so that greater pains should be taken with it than has hitherto been taken with 
syllogism. And unquestionably our greatest hope rests on this induction.” 

t [He also was of this opinion, that induction remained as the last and. sole 



OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 467 

That I may not, however, be accused of resting my judgment 
entirely upon evidence derived from Bacon’s writings, it may be 
proper to consider more particularly to what the induction of 
Aristotle really amounted, and in what respects it coincided with 
that to which Bacon has extended the same name. 

“ Our belief,” says Aristotle in one passage, “ is, in every in¬ 
stance, founded either on syllogism or induction.” To which ob¬ 
servation he adds, in the course of the same chapter, that “ induc¬ 
tion is an inference drawn from all the particulars which it com¬ 
prehends.” (First Analytics, chap, xxiii. vol. i. p. 126. Edit. Du 
Yal.) It is manifest, that, upon this occasion, Aristotle speaks of 
that induction which Bacon, in one of the extracts quoted above, 
describes as proceeding by simple enumeration; and which he, 
therefore, pronounces to be “ a puerile employment of the mind, 
and a mode of reasoning leading to uncertain conclusions.” In 
confirmation of Bacon’s remark, it is sufficient to mention, by way 
of illustration, a single example; which example, to prevent cavils, 
I shall borrow from one of the highest logical authorities. Dr. 
Wallis, of Oxford. 

<e In an inference from induction,” says this learned writer, “ if 
the enumeration be complete, the evidence will be equal to that 
of a perfect syllogism; as if a person should argue, that all the 
planets, the sun excepted, borrow their light from the sun, by 
proving this separately of Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Yenus, Mercury, 
and the moon. It is, in fact, a syllogism in Darapti, of which this 
is the form: 

“ Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Yenus, Mercury, and the moon, each 
borrow their light from the sun: 

“ But this enumeration comprehends all the planets, the sun 
excepted: 

“ Therefore all the planets, the sun excepted, borrow their 
light from the sun.”*—Institutio Logica, lib. iii. chap. 15. 

aid and refuge of things, but that its name only is known : its efficacy and use have 
as yet eluded men.—Things Thought and Seen.] The short tract to which Bacon 
has prefixed this title, contains a summary of what he seems to have considered 
as the leading tenets of his philosophical works. It is one of the most highly finished 
of all his pieces, and is marked throughout with an impressive brevity and solemnity 
which commands and concentrates the attention. Nor does it affect to disguise that 
consciousness of intellectual force which might he expected from a man destined to 
fix a new era in the history of human reason. “ Franciscus Baconus sic cogi- 

tavit,” &c. &c. , , ... , 

* The reasoning employed by Wallis to show that the above is a legitimate syllo¬ 
gism in Darapti, affords a specimen of the facility with which a logical conjuror can 
transform the same argument into the most different shapes. « Siquis objiciat, hunc 
non esse legitimum in Darapti syllogismum, eo quod conclusionem liabeat universalem ; 
dicendum erit, hanc universalem (qualis qualis est) esse universalem collectivam ; 
qum singularis est. Estque vox omnis hie loci (quae dici solet) pars Categorematica ; 
utpote pars termini minoris (ut exminori propositione liquet) qui hie est (non Planet® 
sed) omnes Planet® (excepto sole,) seu totacollect® reliquorum (excepto sole) Planet- 
arum, quae collect® unica est; adeoque conclusio singularis. Qu® quidem (ut singu¬ 
lars ali®) quamvis sit propositio Universalis, vi materi® ; non tamen tabs est ut non 
possit esse conclusio in tertia figura. Quippe in tertia figura, quoties minor terminus, 

h h 2 


468 


PART II. 


CIIAP. VII. 


If the object of Wallis had been to expose the puerility and 
the precariousness of such an argument, he could not possibly 
have selected a happier illustration. The induction of Aristotle, 
when considered in this light, is indeed a fit companion for his 
syllogism; inasmuch as neither can possibly advance us a single 
step in the acquisition of new knowledge. How different from 
both is the induction of Bacon, which instead of carrying the mind 
round in the same circle of words, leads it from* the past to the 
future, from the known to the unknown ? # 

Dr. Wallis afterwards very justly remarks, “that inductions of 
this sort are of frequent use in mathematical demonstrations; in 
which, after enumerating all the possible cases, it is proved, that 
the proposition in question is true of each of these considered 
separately, and the general conclusion is thence drawn, that the 
theorem holds universally. Thus, if it were shown, that, in all 
right-angled triangles, the three angles are equal to two right angles, 
and that the same thing is true in all acute-angled, and also in all 
obtuse-angled triangles; it would necessarily follow, that in every 
triangle the three angles are equal to two right angles; these three 

seu preedicatum minoris pi-opositionis (adeoque subjectum conclusionis) est quid singu- 
lare, necesse est ut conclusio ea sit (vi materise, non formae) ejusniodi universalis.” 
[If any one should object that this is not a legitimate syllogism in Darapti, because it 
has a universal conclusion, it should be observed that this universal (whatever may 
be its nature) is a collective universal, which is a singular and Categorematic part, 
as part of the minor term (as is plain from the minor proposition) which here is (not 
planets but) all planets (except the sun) or a complete collection of the other planets 
(excepting the sun) which collection is singular, and so the conclusion is a singular. 
Which indeed (as is the case with other singulars) although it is a universal proposi¬ 
tion in point of matter, is not of that kind that the conclusion cannot be in the third 
figure. Inasmuch as in the third figure, as often as the lesser term or the predicate of 
the minor proposition (and consequently the subject of the conclusion) is something 
singular, it is necessary that a conclusion of that kind be (in point of matter not of 
form) universal.] 

Injustice to Dr. Wallis, it is proper to subjoin to these quotations a short extract 
from the dedication prefixed to this treatise.—“ Exempla retineo, quse apud logicos 
trita sunt; exphilosophia quam vocant Veterem et Peripateticam petita : quia logtcam 
hie trado, et quidem Peripateticam ; non naturalem philosopliiam. Adeoque, de 
quatuor elementis ; de telluris quiete in universi medio ; de gravium motu deorsum 
leviumque sursum ; de septenario planetarum numero, aliisque ; sic loquor ut loqui 
solent Peripatetici.” [I retain the examples which are familiar to logicians, and 
drawn from what they style the ancient and Peripatetic philosophy, because I' here 
teach logic and that of the Peripatetics, and not natural philosophy. Hence I use the 
language of the Peripatetics concerning the earth being stationary in the midst of the 
universe ; concerning the descent of heavy bodies and the ascent of light ones * con¬ 
cerning the number of the planets being seven ; and other things.] 

* “In arte judicandi (ut etiam vulgo receptum est) aut per inductionem, aut per 
syllogismum concluditur. At quatenus ad judicium, quod fit per inductionem nihil 
est, quod nos detinere debeat : uno siquidem eodemque mentis opere illud quod qu£e- 
ritur, et invenitur et judicatur—At inductions formam vitiosam prorsus valere jube- 
mus ; legitimam ad Novum Organum remittimus.”—De Aug. Scient. lib. v. cap iv" 
[In forming a judgment (as is allowed even by the vulgar) the conclusion is drawn 
either by means of induction or of syllogism. But, as to judgment which is formed by 
induction, it needs no attention, since by one and the same process of the mind that 
which is sought is both discovered and judged of. But we shall have nothin^ further 
to do with the faulty mode of induction ; we refer the legitimate form to the Novum 
Organum.] 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 469 

cases manifestly exhausting all the possible varieties of which the 
hypothesis is susceptible.” 

My chief motive for introducing this last passage was to correct 
an idea, which, it is not impossible, may have contributed to mis¬ 
lead some of Wallis’s readers. As the professed design of the 
treatise in question was to expound the logic of Aristotle, agreeably 
to the views of its original author ; and as all its examples and illus¬ 
trations assume as truths the Peripatetic tenets, it was not unna¬ 
tural to refer to the same venerated source the few incidental 
reflections with which Wallis has enriched his work. Of this num¬ 
ber is the foregoing remark, which differs so very widely from Aris¬ 
totle’s account of mathematical induction, that I was anxious to 
bring the two opinions into immediate contrast. The following is 
a faithful translation from Aristotle’s own words : 

“If any person were to show, by particular demonstrations, that 
every triangle, separately considered, the equilateral, the scalene, 
and the isosceles, has its three angles equal to two right angles, he 
would not, therefore, know that the three angles of a triangle are 
equal to two right angles, except after a sophistical manner. Nor 
would he know this as an universal property of a triangle, although, 
beside these, no other triangle can be conceived to exist; for he 
does not know that it belongs to it qua triangle: nor that it belongs 
to every triangle, excepting in regard to number; his knowledge 
not extending to it as a property of the genus, although it is im¬ 
possible that there should be an individual which that genus does 
not include.”* 

For what reason Aristotle should have thought of applying to 
such an induction as this the epithet sophistical, it is difficult to 
conjecture. That it is more tedious, and therefore less elegant 
than a general demonstration of the same theorem, is undoubtedly 
true; but it is not on that account the less logical, nor, in point of 
form, the less rigorously geometrical. It is, indeed, precisely on 
the same footing with the proof of every mathematical proposition 
which has not yet been pushed to the utmost possible limit of gene¬ 
ralization. 

It is somewhat curious that this hypothetical example of Aris¬ 
totle is recorded as a historical fact by Proclus in his commentary 
on Euclid. “ One person, we are told, (I quote the words of Mr. 
Maclaurin,) discovered that the three angles of an equilateral triangle 
are equal to two right angles; another went farther, and showed 

* A la tovto ovV av rls Seity KaO’ eKaOTOV to Tpiyuvov airodei^ei t\ fua 77 erepo:, oti Suo 
opdas eKacTTov, to iffoirXevpov X a P 15 ' Kai T0 /cat to io , oo'Ke\es" ovttu oiSe to 

Tpiyuvov t>Ti Svo opQais ktov, et /xrj tov aotpiGTiKov Tpotvov’ ovde KadoXov Tpiyuvov, ov 5’ et 
/Ayjfiev €(TTL 7 rapa TavTa Tpiyuvov 4t epov ov yap, 77 Tpiyuvov oiSev’ ovoe 7T av Tpiyuvov, a\\' y 
/car apiQjxov tear etSos de ov irav, /cat €i /xrjBev cotiv oovk oide. — Analyt. Poster, lib. i. cap. v. 

I have rendered the last clause, according to the best of my judgment; but in case 
of any misapprehension on my part, I have transcribed the author’s words. It may 
be proper to mention, that this illustration is not produced by Aristotle as an instance 
of induction ; but it obviously falls under his own definition of it, and is accordingly 
considered in that light by Dr. Wallis. 


PART II. 


CIIAP. VII. 


470 


the same thing of those that have two sides equal, and are called 
isosceles triangles; and it was a third that found that the theorem 
was general, and extended to triangles of all sorts. In like manner, 
when the science was farther advanced, and they came to treat of 
the conic sections, the plane of the section was always supposed 
perpendicular to the side of the cone; the parabola was the only 
section that was considered in the right-angled cone, the ellipse in 
the acute-angled cone, and the hyperbola in the obtuse-angled. 
From these three sorts of cones, the figures of the sections had their 
names for a considerable time, till, at length, Apollonius showed 
that they might all be cut out of any one cone, and, by this disco¬ 
very, merited in those days the appellation of the Great Geome¬ 
trician.” (Account of Sir I. Newton’s Phil. Discoveries, book i. 
chap. 5.) 

It would appear, therefore, that in mathematics an inductive 
inference may not only be demonstratively certain, but that it is a 
natural, and sometimes, perhaps; a necessary step in the generaliza¬ 
tion of our knowledge. And yet it is of one of the most unexception¬ 
able inductive conclusions in this science, (the only science in which 
it is easy to conceive an enumeration which excludes the possi¬ 
bility of any addition,) that Aristotle has spoken,—as a conclusion 
resting on sophistical evidence. 

So much with respect to Aristotle’s induction, on the supposition 
that the enumeration is complete. 

In cases where the enumeration is imperfect. Dr. Wallis after¬ 
wards observes, <f That our conclusion can only amount to a proba¬ 
bility or to a conjecture; and is always liable to be overturned by 
an instance to the contrary.” He observes, also, “ That this sort 
of reasoning is the principal instrument of investigation in what is 
now called experimental philosophy; in which, by observing and 
examining particulars, we arrive at the knowledge of universal 
truths.” (Institutio Logica. See the chapter De Inductione et 
Exemplo.) All this is clearly and correctly expressed; but it must 
not be forgotten that it is the language of a writer trained in the 
schools of Bacon and of Newton. 

Even, however, the induction here described by Dr. Wallis, falls 
greatly short of the method of philosophising pointed out in the 
Novum Organon. It coincides exactly with those empirical infer¬ 
ences from mere experience, of which Bacon entertained such slen¬ 
der hopes for the advancement of science. “ Bestat experientia 
mera; quae si occurrat, casus; si qusesita sit, experimentum nomi- 
natur. Hoc autem experientiae genus nihil aliud est, quam mera 
palpatio, quali homines noctu utuntur, omnia pertentando, si forte 
in rectam viam incidere detur; quibus multo satius et consultius 
foret, diem praestolari aut lumen accendere, deinceps viam inire. 
At contra, verus experientiae ordo primo lumem accendit, deinde per 
lumen iter demonstrat, incipiendo ab experientia ordinata et digesta, 
et minime praepostera aut erratica, atque ex ea educendo axiomata, 


OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY IN INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 471 

atque ex axiomatibus constitutis rursus experimenta nova, quum 
nec verbum divinum in rerum massam absque ordine operatum 
sit.” (Noy. Org. Aph. lxxxii.)* 

It is a common mistake, in the logical phraseology of the present 
times, to confound the words experience and induction as convert¬ 
ible terms.f There is, indeed, between them a very close affinity; 
inasmuch as it is on experience alone that every legitimate induction 
must be raised. The process of induction, therefore, presupposes 
that of experience; but, according to Bacon’s views, the process of 
experience does by no means imply any idea of induction. Of this 
method Bacon has repeatedly said, that it proceeds “ by means of 
rejections and exclusions ” (that is, to adopt the phraseology of the 
Newtonians, in the way of analysis) to separate or decompose nature, 
so as to arrive at those axioms or general laws, from which we may 
infer, in the way of synthesis, other particulars, formerly unknown 
to us, and perhaps placed beyond the reach of our direct exami¬ 
nation. (Nov. Org. Aph. cv. ciii.) 

But enough, and more than enough, has been already said to 
enable my readers to judge how far the assertion is correct, that 
the induction of Bacon was well known to Aristotle. Whether it 
be yet well known to all his commentators, is a different question; 
with the discussion of which I do not think it necessary to interrupt 
any longer the progress of my work. 

* “ There remains mere experience, which if it happens is called chance, if it be 
sought is called experiment. But this sort of experience is nothing but groping 
merely, like that which men use at night by trying all things if perchance they may 
happen to fall into the right way, when it would be much better and wiser for such to 
wait for day, or kindle a light, and then proceed on their journey. But, on the other 
hand, the true course of experiment first kindles a light, and then, by means of it, 
shows the way, beginning from well-arranged and digested experience, and by no 
means crude or desultory, and by deducing from it axioms, and from these established 
axioms being guided to new experiments ; for even the divine Word did not acton the 
mass of things without method.” 

f “ Let it always be remembered, that the author who first taught this doctrine 
(that the true art of reasoning is nothing but a language accurately defined and skil¬ 
fully arranged), had previously endeavoured to prove, that all our notions, as well as 
the signs by which they are expressed, originate in perceptions of sense ; and that the 
principles on which languages are first constructed, as well as every step in their pro¬ 
gress to perfection, all ultimately depend on inductions from observation ; in one word, 
on experience merely.”—Aristotle's Ethics and Politics, by Gillies, vol. i. pp. 94, 95. 

In the latter of these pages I observe the following sentence, which is of itself suf¬ 
ficient to show what notion the Aristotelians still annex to the word under consideration. 
“ Every kind of reasoning is carried on either by syllogism or by induction ; the former 
proving to us, that a particular proposition is true, because it is deducible from a 
general one, already known to us ; and the latter demonstrating a general truth, be¬ 
cause it holds in all particular cases. 

It is obvious that this species of induction never can be of the slighest use m the 
study of nature, where the phenomena which it is our aim to classify under their gene¬ 
ral laws, are, in respect of number, if not infinite, at least incalculable and incompre¬ 
hensible by our faculties. 


472 


PART II. 


CHAP. VIII. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

OF THE IMPORT OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS, IN THE 
LANGUAGE OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 

As the words Analysis and Synthesis are now become of constant 
and necessary use in all the different departments of knowledge ; 
and as there is reason to suspect that they are often employed 
without due attention to the various modifications of their import, 
which must he the consequence of this variety in their applications, 
—it may he proper, before proceeding farther, to illustrate, by a 
few examples, their true logical meaning in those branches of science 
to which I have the most frequent occasions to refer in the course 
of these inquiries. I begin with some remarks on their primary 
signification in that science from which they have been transferred 
by the moderns to physics, to chemistry, and to the philosophy of 
the human mind. 

I. 'Preliminary Observations on the Analysis and Synthesis of the 
Greek Geometricians .—It appears from a very interesting relic of an 
ancient writer,* that, among the Greek geometricians, two different 
sorts of analysis were employed as aids or guides to the inventive 
powers; the one adapted to the solution of problems ; the other to 
the demonstration of theorems. Of the former of these, many 
beautiful exemplifications have been long in the hands of mathe¬ 
matical students ; and of the latter, (which has drawn much less 
attention in modern times,) a satisfactory idea may he formed from 
a series of propositions published at Edinburgh about fifty years 
ago.f I do not, however, know that any person has yet turned 
his thoughts to an examination of the deep and subtle logic displayed 
in these analytical investigations; although it is a subject well 
worth the study of those who delight in tracing the steps by which 
the mind proceeds in pursuit of scientific discoveries. This deside¬ 
ratum it is not my present purpose to make any attempt to supply; 
hut only to convey such general notions as may prevent my readers 
from falling into the common error of confounding the analysis and 
synthesis of the Greek geometry, with the analysis and synthesis of 
the inductive philosophy. 

In the arrangement of the following hints I shall consider, in 
the first place, the nature and use of analysis in investigating the 
demonstration of theorems. For such an application of it, various 
occasions must he constantly presenting themselves to every geome¬ 
ter ;—when engaged, for example, in the search of more elegant 

* Preface to the Seventh Book of the Mathematical Collections of Pappus Alexan- 
drinus. An extract from the Latin version of it by Dr. Halley may be found in 
Note nn. 

f Propositiones Geometricse More Veterum Demonstrate. Auctore Mattheo 
Stewart, S. T. P. Matheseos in Academia Edinensi Professore, 1763. [Geometrical 
Propositions demonstrated according to the manner of the Ancients, bv Matthew 
Stewart, Professor of Mathematics in the Edinburgh University.] 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 473 

modes of demonstrating propositions previously brought to light; 
or in ascertaining the truth of dubious theorems, which, from 
analogy, or other accidental circumstances, possess a degree of veri¬ 
similitude sufficient to rouse the curiosity. 

In order to make myself intelligible to those who are acquainted 
only with that form of reasoning which is used by Euclid, it is 
necessary to remind them, that the enunciation of every matherfia- 
tical proposition consists of two parts. In the first place, certain 
suppositions are made; and secondly, a certain consequence is 
affirmed to follow from these suppositions. In all the demonstra¬ 
tions .which are to be found in Euclid’s Elements, with the excep¬ 
tion of the small number of indirect demonstrations, the particulars 
involved in the hypothetical part of the enunciation are assumed as 
the principles of our reasoning ; and from these principles a series 
or chain of consequences is, link by link, deduced, till we at last 
arrive at the conclusion which the enunciation of the proposition 
asserted as a truth. A demonstration of this kind is called a Syn¬ 
thetical demonstration. 

Suppose now, that I arrange the steps of my reasoning in the 
reverse order ; that I assume hypothetically the truth of the propo¬ 
sition which I wish to demonstrate, and proceed to deduce from 
this assumption, as a principle, the different consequences to which 
it leads. If, in this deduction, I arrive at a consequence which I 
already know to be true, I conclude, with confidence, that the prin¬ 
ciple from which it was deduced is likewise true. But if, on the 
other hand, I arrive at a consequence which I know to be false, I 
conclude that the principle or assumption on which my reasoning 
has proceeded is false also. Such a demonstration of the truth or 
falsity of a proposition is called an analytical demonstration. 

According to these definitions of Analysis and Synthesis, those 
demonstrations in Euclid which prove a proposition to be true, by 
showing that the contrary supposition leads to some absurd infer¬ 
ence, are, properly speaking, analytical processes of reasoning.—In 
every case, the conclusiveness of an analytical proof rests on this 
general maxim, That truth is always consistent with itself: that a 
supposition which leads, by a concatenation of mathematical deduc¬ 
tions, to a consequence which is true, must itself be true; and that 
what necessarily involves a consequence which is absurd or impos¬ 
sible, must itself be false. 

It is evident that, when we are demonstrating a proposition with 
a view to convince another of its truth, the synthetic form of rea¬ 
soning is the more natural and pleasing of the two; as it leads the 
understanding directly from known truths to such as are unknown. 
When a proposition, however, is doubtful, and we wish to satisfy 
our own minds with respect to it: or when we wish to discover a 
new method of demonstrating a theorem previously ascertained to 
be true ; it will be found, as I already hinted, far more convenient 
to conduct the investigation analytically. The justness of this 


PART II. 


CHAP. VIII. 


474) 


remark is universally acknowledged by all who have ever exercised 
their ingenuity in mathematical inquiries; and must be obvious to 
every one who has the curiosity to make the experiment. It is not, 
however, so easy to point out the principle on which this remark¬ 
able difference between these two opposite intellectual processes 
depends. The suggestions which I am now to offer appear to my¬ 
self to touch upon the most essential circumstance ; but I am per¬ 
fectly aware that they by no means amount to a complete solution 
of the difficulty. 

Let it be supposed, then, either that a new demonstration is 
required of an old theorem ; or that a new and doubtful theorem is 
proposed as a subject of examination. In what manner shall I set 
to work, in order to discover the necessary media of proof?—From 
the hypothetical part of the enunciation, it is probable, that a great 
variety of different consequences may be immediately deducible; 
from each of which consequences a series of other consequences 
will follow: at the same time it is possible that only one or two of 
these trains of reasoning may lead the way to the truth which I 
wish to demonstrate. By what rule am I to be guided in selecting 
the line of deduction which I am here to pursue ? The only 
expedient which seems to present itself is merely tentative or 
experimental; to assume successively all the different proximate 
consequences as the first link of the chain, and to follow out the 
deduction from each of them, till I, at last, find myself conducted 
to the truth which I am anxious to reach. According to this sup¬ 
position, I merely grope my way in the dark, without rule or 
method: the object I am in quest of may, after all my labour, 
elude my search; and even if I should be so fortunate as to attain 
it, my success affords me no lights whatever to guide me in future 
on a similar occasion. 

Suppose now that I reverse this order, and prosecute the inves¬ 
tigation analytically; assuming, agreeably to the explanation 
already given, the proposition to be true, and attempting from this 
supposition to deduce some acknowledged truth as a necessary 
consequence. I have here one fixed point from which I am to set 
out; or, in other words, one specific principle or datum from which 
all my consequences are to be deduced; while it is perfectly im¬ 
material in what particular conclusion my deduction terminates, 
provided this conclusion be previously known to be true. Instead, 
therefore, of being limited, as before, to one conclusion exclusively, 
and left in a state of uncertainty where to begin the investigation, 
I have one single supposition marked out to me, from which my 
departure must necessarily be taken; while, at the same time, the 
path which I follow may terminate with equal advantage in a 
variety of different conclusions, In the former case, the pro¬ 

cedure of the understanding bears some analogy to that of a foreign 
spy, landed in a remote corner of this island, and left to explore, by 
his own sagacity, the road to London. In the latter case, it may 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 475 

be compared to that of an inhabitant of the metropolis , who wished 
to effect an escape, by any one of our sea-ports, to the continent. 
It is scarcely necessary to add, that as this fugitive,—should he 
happen, after reaching the coast, to alter his intentions,—would 
easily retrace the way to his own home; so the geometer, when he 
has once obtained a conclusion in manifest harmony with the 
known principles of his science, has only to return upon his own 
steps ( caca regens filo vestigia ) in order to convert his analysis into 
a direct synthetical proof. 

A palpable and familiar illustration (at least in some of the 
most essential points) of the relation in which the two methods now 
described stand to each other, is presented to us by the operation 
of unloosing a difficult knot , in order to ascertain the exact process 
by which it was formed. The illustration appears to me to be the 
more apposite, that I have no doubt it was this very analogy which 
suggested to the Greek geometers the metaphorical expressions 
of analysis and of solution, which they have transmitted to the 
philosophical language of modern times. 

Suppose a knot of a very artificial construction to be put into 
my hands as an exercise for my ingenuity, and that I was required 
to investigate a rule, which others, as well as myself, might be able 
to follow in practice, for making knots of the same sort. If I were 
to proceed in this attempt according to the spirit of a geometrical 
synthesis, I should have to try, one after another, all the various 
experiments which my fancy could devise, till I had, at last, hit 
upon the particular knot I was anxious to tie. Such a process, 
however, would evidently be so completely tentative, and its final 
success would, after all, be so extremely doubtful, that common 
sense could not fail to suggest immediately the idea of tracing the 
knot through all the various complications of its progress, by cau¬ 
tiously undoing or unknitting each successive turn of the thread in 
a retrograde order, from the last to the first. After gaining this 
first step, were all the former complications restored again, by an 
inverse repetition of the same operations which I had performed in 
undoing them, an infallible rule would be obtained for solving the 
problem originally proposed; and, at the same time, some address 
or dexterity, in the practice of the general method, probably gained, 
which would encourage me to undertake, upon future occasions, 
still more arduous tasks of a similar description. The parallel 
between this obvious suggestion of reason, and the refined logic of 
the Greek analysis, undoubtedly fails in several particulars; but 
both proceed so much on the same cardinal principle, as to account 
sufficiently for a transference of the same expressions from the one 
to the other. That this transference has actually taken place in 
the instance now under consideration, the literal and primitive 
import of the words ava and Xvais, affords as strong presumptive 
evidence as can well be expected in any etymological speculation. 

In applying the method of analysis to geometrical problems, the 


PART II. 


CHAP. VIII. 


476 


investigation begins by supposing the problem to be solved; after 
which a chain of consequences is deduced from this supposition, 
terminating at last in a conclusion, which either resolves into 
another problem, previously known to be within the reach of our 
resources, or which involves an operation known to be impractica¬ 
ble. In the former case, all that remains to be done, is to refer to 
the construction of the problem in which the analysis terminates ; 
and then, by reversing our steps, to demonstrate synthetically that 
this construction fulfils all the conditions of the problem in ques¬ 
tion. If it should appear, in the course of the composition, that in 
certain cases the problem is possible, and in others not, the specifi¬ 
cation of these different cases, (called by the Greek geometers 
the biopLo -^09 or determination) becomes an indispensable requisite 
towards a complete solution. 

The utility of the ancient analysis in facilitating the solution of 
problems, is still more manifest than in facilitating the demonstra¬ 
tion of theorems; and, in all probability, was perceived by mathe¬ 
maticians at an earlier period. The steps by which it proceeds in 
quest of the thing sought, are faithfully copied, as might be easily 
shown, from that natural logic which a sagacious mind would 
employ in similar circumstances ; and are, in fact, but a scientific 
application of certain rules of method collected from the successful 
investigations of men who were guided merely by the light of com¬ 
mon sense. The same observation may be applied to the analytical 
processes of the algebraical art. 

In order to increase, as far as the state of mathematical science 
then permitted, the powers of their analysis, the ancients, as appears 
from Pappus, wrote thirty-three different treatises, (known among 
mathematicians by the name of tottos ava\vo\uevos) of which number 
there are twenty-four books, whereof Pappus has particularly 
described the subjects and the contents. In what manner some of 
these were instrumental in accomplishing their purpose, has been 
fully explained by different modern writers; particularly by the 
late very learned Dr. Simson of Glasgow. Of Euclid’s Data, for 
example, the first in order of those enumerated by Pappus, he 
observes, that “ it is of the most general and necessary use in the 
solution of problems of every kind; and that whoever tries to 
investigate the solutions of problems geometrically, will soon find 
this to be true; for the analysis of a problem requires that conse¬ 
quences be drawn from the things that are given, until the thing 
that is sought be shown to be given also. Now, supposing that the 
data were not extant, these consequences must, in every particular 
instance, be found out and demonstrated from the things given 
in the enunciation of the problem ; whereas the possession of this 
elementary book supersedes the necessity of anything more than a 
reference to the propositions which it contains.” * 


* Letter from Dr. Simson to George Lewis Scott, Esq., published by Dr. Traill. 
See liis Account of Dr. Simson’s Life and Writings, p. ] 18. 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 4-77 

With respect to some of the other books mentioned by Pappus, 
it is remarked, by Dr. Simson’s biographer, that “ they relate to’ 
general problems of frequent recurrence in geometrical investiga¬ 
tions : and that their use was for the more immediate resolution of 
any proposed geometrical problem, which could be easily reduced 
to a particular case of any one of them. By such a reduction, the 
problem was considered as fully resolved; because it was then 
necessary only to apply the analysis, composition, and determina¬ 
tion of that case of the general problem, to this particular problem 
which it was shown to comprehend.” * 

From these quotations it manifestly appears that the greater part 
of what was formerly said of the utility of analysis in investigating 
the demonstration of theorems is applicable, mutatis mutandis , to 
its employment in the solution of problems. It appears farther, 
that one great aim of the subsidiary books, comprehended under 
the title of tottos avaXvoixevos, was to multiply the number of such 
conclusions as might secure to the geometer a legitimate synthetical 
demonstration, by returning backward, step by step, from a known 
or elementary construction. The obvious effect of this was at once 
to abridge the analytical process, and to enlarge its resources; on 
a principle somewhat analogous to the increased facilities which a 
fugitive from Great Britain would gain, in consequence of the 
multiplication of our sea-ports. 

Notwithstanding, however, the immense aids afforded to the 
geometer by the ancient analysis, it must not be imagined that it 
altogether supersedes the necessity of ingenuity and invention. It 
diminishes, indeed, to a wonderful degree, the number of his ten¬ 
tative experiments, and of the paths by which he might go astray ;f 
but (not to mention the prospective address which it supposes, in 
preparing the way for the subsequent investigation, by a suitable 
construction of the diagram,) it leaves much to be supplied, at 
every step, by sagacity and practical skill; nor does the knowledge 
of it, till disciplined and perfected by long habit, fall under the 
description of that bvva/jus avaXvTLKrj,% which is justly represented 
by an old Greek writer, § as an acquisition of greater value than the 
most extensive acquaintance with particular mathematical truths. 

According to the opinion of a modern geometer and philosopher 
of the first eminence, the genius thus displayed in conducting the 
.approaches to a preconceived mathematical conclusion, is of a far 
higher order than that which is evinced by the discovery of new 

* Account of Dr. Simson’s Life and Writings, by Dr. Traill, pp. 159, 160. 

f “ Nihil a vera et genuina analysi magis distat, nihil magis abhorret, quam tentandi 
methodus ; hanc enim amovere et certissima via ad quaesitum perducere, praecipuus 
est analyseos finis.” [Nothing is moi’e remote from genuine analysis than the tenta¬ 
tive mode, for it is the principal aim of analysis to supersede this, and to guide us to 
our object by the most certain course.]—Extract from a MS. of Dr. Simson, published 
by Dr. Traill. See his Account, &c. p. 127. 

X [Analytical dexterity.] 

§ See the preface of Marinus to Euclid’s Data. In the preface to the 7th book of Pap¬ 
pus, the same idea is expressed by the phrase dvva/jus erper i/ 07 , “sagacity in discovering.” 


PART II. 


CHAP. VIII. 


478 


theorems. “ Longe sublimioris ingenii est,” says Galileo, “ alieni 
problematis enodatio, aut ostensio theorematis, quam novi cujus- 
piam inventio: hsec quippe fortunee in incertum vagantibus obviae 
plerumque esse solent; tota vero ilia, quanta est, studiosissimam 
attentae mentis, in unum aliquem. scopurq collimantis, rationem 
exposed;.” * Of the justness of this observation, on the whole, I 
have no doubt; and have only to add to it, by way of comment, 
that it is chiefly while engaged in the steady pursuit of a particular 
object, ,that those discoveries which are commonly considered as 
entirely accidental, are most likely to present themselves to the 
geometer. It is the methodical inquirer alone who is entitled to 
expect such fortunate occurrences as Galileo speaks of; and where- 
ever invention appears as a characteristical quality of the mind, we 
may be assured that something more than chance has contributed 
to its success. On this occasion, the fine and deep reflection of 
Fontenelle will be found to apply with peculiar force: “ Ces hasards 
ne sont que pour ceux qui jouent bien.” 

II. Critical Remarks on the vague use among Modern Writers of 
the terms Analysis and Synthesis. —The foregoing observations on 
the analysis and synthesis of the Greek geometers may, at first 
sight, appear somewhat out of place, in a disquisition concerning 
the principles and rules of the inductive logic. As it was, how¬ 
ever, from the mathematical sciences that these words were con¬ 
fessedly borrowed by the experimental inquirers of the Newtonian 
school, an attempt to illustrate their original technical import seemed 
to form a necessary introduction to the strictures which I am about 
to offer on the loose and inconsistent applications of them, so fre¬ 
quent in the logical phraseology of the present times. 

Sir Isaac Newton himself has, in one of his queries, fairly 
brought into comparison the mathematical and the physical analysis, 
as if the word, in both cases, conveyed the same idea. “ As in 
mathematics, so in natural philosophy, the investigation of difficult 
things by the method of analysis, ought ever to precede the method 
of composition. This analysis consists in making experiments and 
observations, and in drawing conclusions from them by induction, 
and admitting of no objections against the conclusions, but such as 
are taken from experiments, or other certain truths. For hypo¬ 
theses are not to be regarded in experimental philosophy. And 
although the arguing from experiments and observations by induc¬ 
tion be no demonstration of general conclusions ; yet it is the best 
way of arguing which the nature of things admit of, and may be 


* “ The unravelling of a problem, or demonstration of a theorem, is the part of a 
much higher order of genius than the discovery of new ones, for this last is the result 
of chance, presenting itself to those engaged in vain efforts ; but the other, in its whole 
extent, demands the most diligent consideration of an attentive mind directed to one 
object.” Not having the works of Galileo at hand, I quote this passage on the autho¬ 
rity of Guido Grandi, who has introduced it in the preface to his Demonstration of 
Huygens’s Theorems concerning the Logarithmic Line.—Vid. Hugenii Opera Reliqua, 
tom. i. p. 43. 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 479 

looked upon as so much the stronger, by how much the induction is 
more general. And if no exception occur from phenomena, the 
conclusion may be pronounced generally. But if, at any time 
afterwards, any exception shall occur from experiments, it may 
then begin to be pronounced, with such exceptions as occur. By 
this way of analysis we may proceed from compounds to ingredients; 
and from motions to the forces producing them; and, in general, 
from effects to their causes; and from particular causes to more 
general ones, till the argument end in the most general. This is 
the method of analysis. And the synthesis consists in assuming 
the causes discovered and established as principles, and by them 
explaining the phenomena proceeding from them, and proving 
the explanations.” See the concluding paragraphs of Newton’s 
Optics. 

It is to the first sentence of this extract, which has been 
repeated over and over by subsequent writers, that I would more 
particularly request the attention of my readers. Mr. Maclaurin, 
one of the most illustrious of Newton’s followers, has not only 
sanctioned it by transcribing it in the words of the author, 
but has endeavoured to illustrate and enforce the observation 
which it contains. “ It is evident, that as in mathematics, so in 
natural philosophy, the investigation of difficult things by the 
method of analysis ought ever to precede the method of composi¬ 
tion, or the synthesis. For, in any other way, we can never be 
sure that we assume the principles which really obtain in nature, 
and that our system, after we have composed it with great labour, 
is not mere dream or illusion.”—(Account of Newton’s Disco¬ 
veries.) The very reason here stated by Mr. Maclaurin, one 
should have thought, might have convinced him that the parallel 
between the two kinds of analysis was not strictly correct, inas¬ 
much as this reason ought, according to the logical interpretation 
of his words, to be applicable to the one science as well as to the 
other, instead of exclusively applying, as is obviously the case, to 
inquiries in natural philosophy. 

After the explanation which has been already given \oigeometri¬ 
cal and also of physical analysis , it is almost superfluous to remark, 
that there is little, if anything, in which they resemble each other, 
excepting this—that both of them are methods of investigation and 
discovery, and that both happen to be called by the same name.] 
This name is, indeed, from its literal or etymological import, very 
happily significant of the notions conveyed by it in both instances; 
but, notwithstanding this accidental coincidence, the wide and 
essential difference between the subjects to which the two kinds of 
analysis are applied, must render it extremely evident that the 
analogy of the rules which are adapted to the one can be of no 
use in illustrating those which are suited to the other. 

Nor is this all. [The meaning conveyed by the word analysis, 
in physics, in chemistry, and in the philosophy of the human mind, 


PART IT. 


CHAP. VIII. 


480 


is radically different from that which was annexed to it by the 
Greek geometers, or which ever has been annexed to it by any 
class of modern mathematicians. In all the former sciences, it 
naturally suggests the idea of a decomposition of what is complex 
into its constituent elements.] It is defined by Johnson, “ a sepa¬ 
ration of a compound body into the several parts of which it con¬ 
sists.” He afterwards mentions, as another signification of the 
same word, “ a solution of anything, whether corporeal or mental, 
into its first elements ; as of a sentence, into the single words ; of a 
compound word, into the particles and words which form it; of a 
tune, into single notes; of an argument, into single propositions.” In 
the following sentence, quoted by the same author from Glanville, 
the word analysis seems to be used in a sense precisely coincident 
with what I have said of its import, when applied to the Baconian 
method of investigation. “ We cannot know anything of nature 
but by an analysis of its true initial causes.” * 

In the Greek geometry, on the other hand, the same word evi¬ 
dently had its chief reference to the retrograde direction of this 
method, when compared with the natural order of didactic demon¬ 
stration. Trjv TOLavrrjv ecfrobov, says Pappus, avaXvoriv KaXov^ev, olov 
avaitaXiv Xv<nv ; a passage which Halley thus translates : “ Hie pro¬ 
cessus analysis vocatur, quasi dicas, inversa solutio.”f That this is 
the primitive and genuine import of the preposition ava, is very 
generally admitted by grammarians ; and it accords, in the present 
instance, so happily with the sense of the context, as to throw a 
new and strong light on the justness of their opinion.^ 

In farther proof of what I have here stated with respect to the 
double meaning of the words analysis and synthesis, as employed 
in physics and in mathematics, it may not be superfluous to add 
the following considerations :—[In mathematical analysis, we always 
set out from a hypothetical assumption, and our object is to arrive 
at some known truth, or some datum, by reasoning synthetically 


* By the true initial causes of a phenomenon, Glanville means, as might be easily 
shown by a comparison with other parts of his works, the simple laws from the com¬ 
bination of which it results, and from a previous knowledge of which it might have 
been synthetically deduced as a consequence. 

That Bacon, when he speaks of those separations of nature, by means of compari¬ 
sons, exclusions, and rejections, which form essential steps in the inductive process, had 
a view to the analytical operations of the chemical laboratory, appears sufficiently from 
the following words, before quoted. “ Itaque naturae facienda est prorsus solutio et 
separatio ; non per ignem certe, sed per mentem, tanquam ignem divinum.” 
t “ This process is called analysis, as it were inverted solution.” 

X The force of this preposition, in its primitive sense, may perhaps, without any false 
refinement, be traced more or less palpably, in every instance to which the word 
analysis is with any propriety applied. In what Johnson calls, for example, “ the 
separation of a compound body into the several parts of which it consists,”—we proceed 
on the supposition that these parts have previously been combined, or put together, so 
as to make up the aggregate whole, submitted to the examination of the chemist ; and 
consequently, that the analytic process follows an inverted or retrograde direction, in 
respect of that in which the compound is conceived to have been originally formed.* A 
similar remark will be found to apply, mutatis mutandis , to other cases, however 
apparently different. 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 481 

from which we may afterwards return, on our own footsteps, to 
the point where our investigation began. In all such cases, the 
synthesis is infallibly obtained by reversing the analytical process ; and 
as both of them have in view the demonstration of the same theo¬ 
rem, or the solution of the same problem, they form, in reality, but 
different parts of one and the same investigation. But in natural 
philosophy, a synthesis which merely reversed the analysis would be 
absurd. On the contrary, our analysis necessarily sets out from 
known facts; and after it has conducted us to a general principle, 
the synthetical reasoning which follows consists always of an appli¬ 
cation of this principle to phenomena different from those compre¬ 
hended in the original induction.] 

In some cases, the natural philosopher uses the word analysis, 
where it is probable that a Greek geometer would have used the 
word synthesis. Thus, in astronomy, when we attempt from the 
known phenomena to establish the truth of the Copernican system, 
we are said to proceed analytically. But the analogy of ancient 
geometry would apply this word to a process directly the reverse; 
a process which, assuming the system as true, should reason from 
it to the known phenomena: after which, if the process could be 
so reversed as to prove that this system, and this system alone, is 
consistent with these facts, it would bear some analogy to a geo¬ 
metrical synthesis. 

These observations had occurred to me long before I had re¬ 
marked that the celebrated Dr. Hooke (guided also by what he 
conceived to be the analogy of the Greek geometry) uses the words 
analysis and synthesis in physics, precisely in the contrary accep¬ 
tations to those assigned to them in the definitions of Sir Isaac 
Newton. “ The methods,” he observes, “ of attaining a know¬ 
ledge of nature may be two; either the analytic or the synthetic. 
The first is the proceeding from the causes to the effects : the 
second, from the effects to the causes. The former is the more 
difficult, and supposes the thing to be already done and known, 
which is the thing sought and to be found out. This begins from 
the highest, most general, and universal principles or causes of 
things, and branches itself out into the more particular and subor¬ 
dinate. The second is the more proper for experimental inquiry, 
which from a true information of the effect by a due process, finds 
out the immediate cause thereof, and so proceeds gradually to 
higher and more remote causes and powers effective, founding its 
steps upon the lowest and more immediate conclusions.”* (Hooke’s 
Posthumous Works, p. 380.) 

* As this volume is now become extremely rare, I shall transcribe the paragraph 
which immediately follows the above quotation. 

u An inquisition by the former, or analytic, method, is resembled fitly enough by the 
example of an architect, who hath a full comprehension of what he designs to do, and 
acts accordingly : but the latter, or synthetic, is more properly resembled to that of a 
husbandman or gardener, who prepares his ground, and sows his seed, and diligently 
cherishes the growing vegetable, supplying it continually with fitting moisture, food, 


PART IT, 


CHAP. VIII. 


482 


That Hooke was led into this mode of speaking by the phrase¬ 
ology of the ancient mathematicians, may, I think, be safely in¬ 
ferred from the following very sagacious and fortunate conjecture 
with respect to the nature of their analytical investigations, which 
occurs in a different part of the same volume. I do not know that 
any thing approaching to it is to be found in the works of any 
other English author prior to Dr. Halley. 

“ What ways the ancients had for finding out these mediums, or 
means of performing the thing required, we are much in the dark; 
nor do any of them show the way, or so much as relate that they 
had such a one; yet ’tis believed, they were not ignorant of some 
kind of algebra, by which they had a certain way to help themselves 
in their inquiries, though that we now use be much confined and 
limited to a few media. But I do rather conceive, that they had 
another kind of analytics, which went backwards through almost 
all the same steps by which their demonstrations went forwards, 
though of this we have no certain account, their writings being 
altogether silent in that particular. However, that such a way is 
practicable, I may hereafter, upon some other occasion, show by 
some examples; whereby it will plainly appear how much more 
useful it is for the finding out the ways for the solution of problems, 
than that which is now generally known and practised by species.”* 
(Hooke’s Post. Works, p. 68.) 

The foregoing remarks, although rather of a critical than of a 


and shelter; observing and cherishing its continual progression, till it comes to its 
perfect ripeness and maturity, and yields him the fruit of his labour. Nor is it to be 
expected that a production of such perfection as this is designed, should be brought to 
its complete ripeness in an instant ; but, as all the works of nature, if it be naturally 
proceeded with, it must have its due time to acquire its due form and full maturity, by 
gradual growth and a natural progression; not but that the other method is also of 
excellent and necessary use, and will very often facilitate and hasten the progress. An 
instance of which kind I designed, some years since, to have given this honourable 
society, in some of my lectures upon the motions and influences of the celestial bodies, 
if it had been then fit; but I understand, the same thing will now be shortly done by 
Mr. Newton, in a Treatise of his now in the press: but that will not be the only 
instance of that kind which I design to produce, for that I have diverse instances of 
the like nature, wherein, from a hypothesis being supposed, on a premeditated design, 
all the phenomena of the subject will be a priori foretold, and the effects naturally 
follow, as proceeding from a cause so and so qualified and limited. And, in truth, the 
synthetic way, by experiments and observations, will be very slow, if it be not often 
assisted by the analytic, which proves of excellent use, even though it proceed by a 
false position ; for that the discovery of a negative is one way of restraining and 
limiting an affirmative.” 

Change the places of the words analytic and synthetic in this last sentence, and the 
remark coincides exactly with what Boscovich, Hartley, Le Sage, and many other 
authors, have advanced in favour of synthetical explanations from hypothetical theories. 
I shall have occasion afterwards to offer some additional suggestions in support of their 
opinion, and to point out the limitations which it seems to require. 

* Of the illustrations hei’e promised by Hooke of the utility of the analytical method 
in geometrical investigations, no traces, as far as I have observed, occur in his writings. 
And it would appear from the following note by the editor, on the passage last quoted, 
that nothiug important on the subject had been discovered among his papers. 

“ I do not any where find that this was ever done by Dr. Hooke, and leave the 
usefulness therefore to be considered by the learned.” 


OP THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 


483 


philosophical nature, may, I hope, be of some use in giving a little 
more precision to our notions on this important subject. They are 
introduced here, not with the most distant view to any alteration 
in our established language, (which, in the present instance, appears 
to me to be not only unexceptionable, but very happily significant 
of its true logical import,) but merely to illustrate the occasional 
influence of words over the most powerful understandings ; and 
the vagueness of the reasonings into which they may insensibly 
be betrayed, by a careless employment of indefinite and ambiguous 
terms. 

If the task were not ungrateful, it would be easy to produce 
numerous examples of this from writers of the highest and most 
deserved reputation of the present times. I must not, however, 
pass over in silence the name of Condillac, who has certainly con¬ 
tributed, more than any other individual, to the prevalence of the 
logical errors now under consideration. “ I know well,” says he 
on one occasion, “ that it is customary to distinguish different kinds 
of analysis; the logical analysis, the metaphysical, and the mathe¬ 
matical ; but there is, in fact, only one analysis; and it is the same 
in all the sciences.” (La Logique, Seconde Partie, chap, vii.) 
On another occasion, after quoting from the logic of Port Royal 
a passage in which it is said, “ That analysis and synthesis differ 
from each other only as the road we follow in ascending from the 
valley to the mountain differs from the road by which we descend 
from the mountain into the valley,” Condillac proceeds thus: 
“ From this comparison, all I learn is, that the two methods are 
contrary to one another, and consequently, that if the one be good, 
the other must be bad. In truth, we cannot proceed otherwise 
than from the known to the unknown. Now, if the thing unknown 
be upon the mountain, it will never be found by descending into 
the valley; and if it be in the valley, it will not be found by as¬ 
cending the mountain. There cannot, therefore, be two contrary 
roads by which it is to be reached. Such opinions,” Condillac 
adds, “ do not deserve a more serious criticism.” (Ibid. chap, vi.) 

To this very extraordinary argument it is unnecessary to offer 
any reply, after the observations already made on the analysis and 
synthesis of the Greek geometers. In the application of these 
two opposite methods to their respective functions, the theoretical 
reasoning of Condillac is contradicted by the universal experience 
of mathematicians, both ancient and modern; and is indeed so 
palpably absurd as to carry along with it its own refutation, to the 
conviction of every person capable of comprehending the terms 
of the question.—Nor would it be found more conclusive or more 
intelligible, if applied to the analysis and synthesis of natural phi¬ 
losophers; or indeed to these words, in any of the various accepta¬ 
tions in which they have ever hitherto been understood. As it is 
affirmed, however, by Condillac, that “ there neither is, nor can be, 
more than one analysis,” a refutation of his reasoning, drawn from 

i i 2 


PART II. 


CHAP. VIII* 


484 


any particular science, is, upon his own principle, not less conclu¬ 
sive than if founded on a detailed examination of the whole circle 
of human knowledge. I shall content myself, therefore, on the 
present occasion, with a reference to the mathematical illustrations 
contained in the former part of this section. 

With regard to the notion annexed to this word by Condillac 
himself, I am not certain if, after all that he has written in expla¬ 
nation of it, I have perfectly seized his meaning. “ To analyze, 
(he tells us, in the beginning of his Logic,) is nothing more than 
to observe in a successive order the qualities of an object, with the 
view of giving them in the mind that simultaneous order in which 
they co-exist.” (La Logique, Premiere Partie, chap, ii.) In illus¬ 
tration of this definition, he proceeds to remark, that “ although 
with a single glance of the eye, a person may discover a multitude 
of objects in an open champaign which he has previously surveyed 
with attention, yet that the prospect is never more distinct than 
when it is circumscribed within narrow bounds, and only a small 
number of objects is taken in at once. We always discern with 
accuracy but a part of what we see.” 

“ The case,” he continues, “ is similar with the intellectual eye. 
I have, at the same moment, present to it, a great number of the 
familiar objects of my knowledge. I see the whole group, but am 
unable to mark the discriminating qualities of individuals. To com¬ 
prehend with distinctness all that offers itself simultaneously to my 
view, it is necessary that I should, in the first place, decompose the 
mass;—in a manner analogous to that in which a curious observer 
would proceed in decomposing, by successive steps, the coexistent 
parts of a landscape.—It is necessary for me, in other words, to 
analyze my thoughts.”* (Ibid. chap, ii.) 

The same author afterwards endeavours still farther to unfold his 
notion of analysis, by comparing it to the natural procedure of the 
mind in the examination of a machine. “ If I wish,” says he, “ to 
understand a machine, I decompose it, in order to study separately 
each of its parts. As soon as I have an exact idea of them all, and 
am in a condition to replace them as they were formerly, 1 have 
a perfect conception of the machine, having both decomposed and 
recomposed it.” (Ibid. chap, iii.) 

In all this, I must confess, there seems to me to be much both 
of vagueness and of confusion. In the two first quotations, the word 
analysis is employed to denote nothing more than that separation 
into parts which is necessary to bring a very extensive or a very 
complicated subject within the grasp of our faculties;—a descrip¬ 
tion, certainly, which conveys but a very partial and imperfect con¬ 
ception of that analysis which is represented as the great organ of 

* In this last paragraph, I have introduced one or two additional clauses, which 
seemed to me necessary for conveying clearly the author’s idea. Those who take the 
trouble to compare it with the original, will be satisfied, that, in venturing on these 
slight interpolations, I had no wish to misrepresent his opinion. 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 485 

invention in all the sciences and arts.* In the example of the 
machine, Condillac’s language is somewhat more precise and un¬ 
equivocal ; but, when examined with attention, will be found to 
present an illustration equally foreign to his purpose. This is the 
more surprising, as the instance here appealed to might have been 
expected to suggest a juster idea of the method in question, than 
that which resolves into a literal decomposition and recomposition 
of the thing to be analyzed. That a man may be able to execute 
both of these manual operations on a machine, without acquiring 
any clear comprehension of the manner in which it performs its 
work, must appear manifest on the slightest reflection ; nor is it 
less indisputable, that another person, without disengaging a single 
wheel, may gain, by a process purely intellectual, a complete 
knowledge of the whole contrivance. Indeed, I apprehend that it 
is in this way alone that the theory of any complicated machine 
can be studied ; for it is not the parts, separately considered, but 
the due combination of these parts, which constitutes the mechan¬ 
ism, f An observer, accordingly, of common sagacity, is here 
guided by the logic of nature, to a species of analysis bearing as 
much resemblance to those of mathematicians and of natural philo¬ 
sophers, as the very different nature of the cases admits of. Instead 
of allowing his eye to wander at large over the perplexing mazes 
of such a labyrinth, he begins by remarking the ultimate effect; 
and thence proceeds to trace backwards, step by step, the series of 
intermediate movements by which it is connected with the vis 
motrix. In doing so, there is undoubtedly a sort of mental decom¬ 
position of the machine, inasmuch as all its parts are successively 
considered in detail; but it is not this decomposition which consti¬ 
tutes the analysis. It is the methodical retrogradation from the 
mechanical effect to the mechanical power.:}: 

The passages in Condillac to which these criticisms refer, are all 

* “ Ce qu’on nomme methode d’invention, n’est autre chose que [’analyse. C’est elle 
qui a fait toutes les ddcouvertes ; c’est par elle que nous retrouverons tout ce qui a ete 
trouv6.”—La Logique, chap. iii. [That which is called method of invention is merely 
analysis. It is that which has caused all inventions ; it is by means of that that we 
shall discover anew all that has been discovered.] 

*|- If, on any occasion, a literal decomposition of a machine should be found neces¬ 
sary, it can only be to obtain a view of some of its parts, which in their combined state, 
are concealed from observation. 

X That this circumstance of retrogradation or inversion, figured more than any other 
in the imagination of Pappus, as the characteristical featui’e of geometrical analysis, 
appears indisputably from a clause already quoted from the preface to his 7th Book :— 
T 7 }v Toiav+r)v e<podov auakvaiv Kakovjxsv, Siov avairakiv \vatv. To say therefore, as many 
writers have done, that the analysis of a geometrical problem consists in decomposing 
or resolving it in such a manner as may lead to the discovery of the composition or 
synthesis,—is at once to speak vaguely, and to keep out of view the cardinal principle 
on which the utility of the method hinges. There is indeed one species of decom¬ 
position exemplified in the Greek geometry;—that which has for its object to distin¬ 
guish all the various cases of a general problem ; but this part of the investigation was 
so far from being included by the ancients in their idea of analysis, that they bestowed 
upon it an appropriate name of its own ;—the three requisites to a complete solution 
being, according to Pappus, ava\v<rai , kcu avvOcii/ai, nai 5iopi£ea6ai Kara ■nrwcriv. 


PART II. 


CHAP. VJII. 


486 


selected from his Treatise on Logic, written purposely to establish 
his favourite doctrine with respect to the influence of language 
upon thought. The,paradoxical conclusions into which he himself 
has been led by an unwarrantable use of the words analysis and 
synthesis, is one of the most remarkable instances which the history 
of modern literature furnishes of the truth of his general principle. 

Nor does this observation apply merely to the productions of his 
more advanced years. In early life he distinguished himself by 
an ingenious work, in which he professed to trace analytically the 
history of our sensations and perceptions; and yet, it has been 
very justly remarked of late, that all the reasonings contained in it 
are purely synthetical. A very eminent mathematician of the 
present times has even gone so far as to mention it “ as a model of 
geometrical synthesis.”* He would, I apprehend, have expressed 
his idea more correctly, if, instead of the epithet geometrical, he 
had employed, on this occasion, logical or metaphysical; in both of 
which sciences, as was formerly observed, the analytical and syn¬ 
thetical methods bear a much closer analogy to the experimental 
inductions of chemistry and of physics, than to the abstract and 
hypothetical investigations of the geometer. 

The abuses of language which have been now under our review, 
will appear the less wonderful when it is considered that mathe¬ 
maticians themselves do not always speak of analysis and synthesis 
with their characteristical precision of expression ; the former word 
being frequently employed to denote the modern calculus, and the 
latter the pure geometry of the ancients. This phraseology, 
although it has been more than once censured by foreign writers, 
whose opinions might have been expected to have some weight, 
still continues to prevail very generally upon the Continent. The 
learned and judicious author of the History of Mathematics com¬ 
plained of it more than fifty years ago ; remarking on the impro¬ 
priety “ of calling by the name of the synthetic method, that which 
employs no algebraical calculus, and which addresses itself to the 
mind and to the eyes, by means of diagrams, and of reasonings 
expressed at full length in ordinary language. It would be more 
exact,” he observes farther, “ to call it the method of the ancients, 
which (as is now universally known) virtually supposes, in all its 
synthetical demonstrations, the previous use of analysis. As to the 
algebraical calculus, it is only an abridged manner of expressing a 
process of mathematical reasoning; which process may, according 
to circumstances, be either analytical or synthetical. Of the latter, 
an elementary example occurs in the algebraical demonstrations 
given by some editors of Euclid, of the propositions in his second 
book.”f 

This misapplication of the words analysis and synthesis, is not. 


* M. Lacroix. See the Introduction to his Elements of Geometry. 

+ Histoire des Mathematiques, par Montucla, tome premier, [History of Mathe¬ 
matics, by Montucla, first volume,] pp. 175, 176. 


OF THE WORDS ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 487 

indeed, attended with any serious inconveniences, similar to the 
errors occasioned by the loose phraseology of Condillac. It were 
surely better, however, that mathematicians should cease to give it 
the sanction of their authority, as it has an obvious tendency,— 
beside the injustice which it involves to the inestimable remains 
of Greek geometry,—to suggest a totally erroneous theory, with 
respect to the real grounds of the unrivalled and transcendent 
powers possessed by the modern calculus, when applied to the 
more complicated researches of physics.* 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE CONSIDERATION OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC RESUMED. 

I. Additional Remarks on the distinction between Experience and 
Analogy.—Of the grounds afforded by the latter for Scientific 
Inference and Conjecture. — In the same manner in which our exter¬ 
nal senses are struck with that resemblance between different indi¬ 
viduals which gives rise to a common appellation, our superior 
faculties of observation and reasoning enable us to trace those 
more distant and refined similitudes which lead us to comprehend 
different species under one common genus. Here, too, the prin¬ 
ciples of our nature, already pointed out, dispose us to extend our 
conclusions from what is familiar to what is comparatively un¬ 
known; and to reason from species to species, as from individual to 
individual. In both instances, the logical process of thought is 
nearly, if not exactly, the same; but the common use of language 
has established a verbal distinction between them; our most correct 
writers being accustomed (as far as I have been able to observe) to 
refer the evidence of our conclusions, in the one case, to experi¬ 
ence, and in the other to analogy. The truth is, that the difference 
between these two denominations of evidence, when they are 
accurately analyzed, appears manifestly to be a difference, not in 
kind, but merely in degree; the discriminative peculiarities of 
individuals invalidating the inference, as far as it rests on experi¬ 
ence solely, as much as the characteristical circumstances which 
draw the line between different species and different genera.f 

* In the ingenious and profound work of M. De Gerando, entitled, “ Des Signes et 
de l’Art de Penser, consideres dans leur rapports mutuels,” [Concerning Signs and 
the Art of Thinking, in their mutual relations,] there is a very valuable chapter on 
the analysis and synthesis of metaphysicians and of geometers. (See vol. iv. p. 172 .) 
The view of the subject which I have taken in the foregoing chapter, has but little in 
common with that given by this excellent philosopher ; but, in one or two instances, 
where we have both touched upon the same points (particularly in the strictures upon 
the logic of Condillac), there is a general coincidence between our criticisms, which 
adds much to my confidence in my own conclusions. 

f In these observations on the import of the word analogy, as employed in philoso¬ 
phical discussions, it gives me great pleasure to find that I have struck nearly into 
the same train of thinking with M. Prevost. I allude more particularly to the follow¬ 
ing passage in his Essais de Philosophic. 



PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


488 


This difference in point of degree, it must at the same time be 
remembered, leads, where it is great, to important consequences. 
In proportion as the resemblance between two cases diminishes in 
the palpable marks which they exhibit to our senses, our inferences 
from the one to the other are made with less and less confidence; 
and therefore it is perfectly right that we should reason with more 
caution from species to species, than from individual to individual 
of the same kind. In what follows, accordingly, I shall avail 
myself of the received distinction between the words experience 
and analogy ; a distinction which I have hitherto endeavoured to 
keep out of view, till I should have an opportunity of explaining 
the precise notion which I annex to it. It would, in truth, be a 
distinction of important use in our reasonings, if the common 
arrangements, instead of originating, as they have often done, in 
ignorance or caprice, had been really the result of an accurate 
observation and comparison of particulars. With all the imperfec¬ 
tions of these arrangements, however, a judicious inquirer will pay 


“ Le mot analogie, dans l’origine, n’exprime que la ressemblance. Mais l’usage 
l’applique a une ressemblance eloignee : d’ou vient que les conclusions analogiques sont 
souvent hasardees, et out besoin d’etre deduites avec art. Toutes les fois done que, 
dans nos raisonnemens, nous portons des jugemens semblables sur des objets qui n’ont 
qu’une ressemblance eloignee, nous raisonnons analogiquement. La ressemblance 
proebaine est celle qui fonde la premiere generalisation, eelle qu’on nomme l’espece. 
On nomme eloignee la ressemblance qui fonde les generalisations superieures, e’est-a- 
dire, le genre et ses divers degres. Mais cette definition n’est pas rigoureusement 
suivie. 

<£ Quoiqu’il en soit, on conqoit des cas, entre lesquels la ressemblance est si parfaite, 
qu’il ne s’y trouve aucune difference sensible, si ce n’est celle du terns et du lieu. Et 
il est des cas dans lesquels on apperqoit beaucoup de ressemblance, mais ou l’on de- 
couvre aussi quelques differences independantes de la diversity du temps et du lieu. 
Lorsque nous ferons un jugement general, fonde sur la premiere espece de ressemblance, 
nous dirons que nous usons de la methode d’induction. Lorsque la seconde espece de res¬ 
semblance autorisera nos raisonnemens, nous dirons que e’est de la methode d’analogie 
que nous faisons usage. On dit ordinairement que la me'thode d’induction conclut du 
particular au general, et que la me'thode d’analogie conclut du semblable au semblable. 
Si Ton analyse ces definitions, on verra que nous n’avons fait autre chose que leur 
donner de la precision.”—Essais de Philosophic, tome ii. p. 202. [The word analogy 
originally merely expresses resemblance, but usage attaches to it the meaning of dis¬ 
tant resemblance ; whence it happens that analogical conclusions are often rashly 
drawn, and ought to be made with precaution. Every time, then, that in our reason¬ 
ing we form similar judgments concerning objects which have only remote resem¬ 
blances, we reason analogically. Intimate resemblance is that which is the foundation 
of the first generalisation, which is called species. We call remote resemblance that 
which is the foundation of the higher order of generalisations, that is to say, genus and 
its different degrees; but that definition is not strictly observed. However this may 
be, we may conceive instances in wdiich the resemblance is so perfect that there are 
no other differences observable but those of time and place; and there are instances 
in which we pei’ceive much resemblance, but also find some differences independent .of 
time and place. When we form a general judgment founded on the first hind of re¬ 
semblance, we shall say that that is using the method of induction. If our reasonings 
be founded on the second sort of resemblance, we shall lay it dow n that the method of 
analogy is then used. It is commonly said that in the method of induction the con¬ 
clusion is drawn from particular to general, and that in the method of analogy the con¬ 
clusion is drawn from similar to similar. If these definitions be analyzed, it will be 
seen that we have done nothing else than to give them precision.—Essays on Philo¬ 
sophy.] 

See also the remarks on induction and analogy in the four following articles of 
M. Prevost’s work. 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


489 

so much regard to prevailing habits of thinking, as to distinguish 
very scrupulously what common language refers to experience 
from what it refers to analogy, till he has satisfied himself, by a 
diligent examination, that the distinction has, in the instance before 
him, no foundation in truth. On the other hand, as mankind are 
much more disposed to confound things which ought to be dis¬ 
tinguished, than to distinguish things which are exactly or nearly 
similar, he will be doubly cautious in concluding, that all the 
knowledge which common language ascribes to experience is 
equally solid; or that all the conjectures which it places to the 
account of analogy are equally suspicious. 

A different idea of the nature of analogy has been given by some 
writers of note ; and it cannot be denied that, in certain instances, 
it seems to apply still better than that proposed above. The two 
accounts, however, if accurately analyzed, would be found to 
approach much more nearly than they appear to do at first sight; 
or rather, I am inclined to think, that the one might be resolved 
into the other, without much straining or over refinement. But 
this is a question chiefly of speculative curiosity, as the general 
remarks which I have now to offer will be found to hold with 
respect to analogy, considered as a.ground of philosophical reason¬ 
ing, in whatever manner the word is defined ; provided only it be 
understood to express some sort of correspondence or affinity 
between two subjects, which serves, as a principle of association or 
of arrangement, to unite them together in the mind. 

According to Dr. Johnson, to whose definition I allude more 
particularly at present, analogy properly means “a resemblance 
between things with regard to some circumstances or effects ; as 
when learning is said to enlighten the mind ;—that is, to be to 
the mind what light is to the eye, by enabling it to discover that 
which was hidden before.” The statement is expressed with a 
precision and justness not always to be found in the definitions of 
this author ; and it agrees very nearly with the notion of analogy 
adopted by Dr. Ferguson,—that “ things which have no resem¬ 
blance to each other may nevertheless be analogous; analogy 
consisting in a resemblance or correspondence of relation.” (Prin¬ 
ciples of Moral and Political Science, vol. i. p. 107.) As an 
illustration of this, Dr. Ferguson mentions the analogy between 
the fin of a fish and the wing of a bird; the fin bearing the same 
relation to the water which the wing does to the air. This definition 
is more particularly luminous when applied to the analogies which 
are the foundation of the rhetorical figures of metaphor and 
allusion; and it applies also very happily to those which the fancy 
delights to trace between the material and the intellectual worlds ; 
and which, as I have repeatedly observed, are so apt to warp the 
judgment in speculating concerning the phenomena of the human 
mind. 

The pleasure which the fancy receives from the contemplation 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


490 


of such correspondences, real or supposed, obviously presupposes 
a certain disparity or contrast in the natures of the two subjects 
compared ; and, therefore, analogy forms an associating principle, 
specifically different from resemblance, into which Mr. Hume’s theory 
would lead us to resolve it. An additional proof of this is fur¬ 
nished by the following consideration: That a resemblance of 
objects or events is perceived by sense, and accordingly has some 
effect even on the lower animals; a correspondence, or, as it is 
frequently called, a resemblance of relations, is not the object of 
sense, but of intellect, and consequently, the perception of it 
implies the exercise of reason. 

Notwithstanding, however, the radical distinction between the 
notions expressed by the words resemblance and analogy, they may 
often approach very nearly to each other in their meaning; and 
cases may even be conceived in which they exactly agree. In proof 
of this it is sufficient to remark, that in objects the parts of which 
respectively exhibit that correspondence which is usually distin¬ 
guished by the epithet analogous, this correspondence always 
deviates, less or more, from an exact conformity or identity; 
insomuch that it sometimes requires a good deal of consideration 
to trace in detail the parallel circumstances, under the disguises 
which they borrow from their diversified combinations. An obvious 
instance of this occurs when we attempt to compare the bones and 
joints in the leg and foot of a man with those in the leg and foot 
of a horse. Were the correspondence in all the relations perfectly 
exact, the resemblance between the two objects would be manifest 
even to sense; in the very same manner that, in geometry, the 
similitude of two triangles is a necessary consequence of a precise 
correspondence in the relations of their homologous sides. (See 
note o o.) 

This last observation may serve in some measure to justify an 
assertion which was already hazarded,—That the two definitions of 
analogy formerly mentioned, are very nearly allied to each other ; 
—inasmuch as it shows, by a more careful analysis than has com¬ 
monly been applied to this subject, that the sensible dissimilitude 
between things of different species arises, chiefly from the want of 
a palpable conformity in the relations of their constituent parts. 
Conceive that more remote correspondence which reason or fancy 
traces between the parts of the one and the parts of the other, 
gradually to approach, nearer and nearer, to the same standard; 
and it is evident that, in the course of the approximation, you will 
arrive at that degree of manifest resemblance which will bring them 
under the same generic name ; till at last, by continuing this process 
of the imagination, the one will become a correct picture or image 
of the other, not only in its great outlines, but in its minutest 
details. 

From this view of the subject, too, as well as from the former, 
it appears, how vague and ill-defined the metaphysical limits are 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


491 

which separate the evidence of analogy from that of experience; 
and. how much room is left for the operation of good sense, and of 
habits of scientific research, in appreciating the justness of that 
authority which, in particular instances, the popular forms of speech 
may assign to either. 

The illustrations which I have to offer of this last remark, in so 
far as it relates to experience, may, I think, be introduced more 
usefully afterwards; but the vague conceptions which are generally 
annexed to the word analogy, together with the prevailing preju¬ 
dices against it, as a ground of philosophical reasoning, render it 
proper , for me, before proceeding any farther, to attempt the 
correction of some popular mistakes connected with the use of this 
obnoxious term. 

. It is not necessary for the purposes which I have at present in 
view to investigate very curiously the principles which, in the first 
instance, dispose the mind to indulge in analogical conjectures from 
the known to the unknown. It is sufficient to observe, that this 
disposition, so far from being checked, receives additional encou¬ 
ragement from habits of philosophical study ;—the natural tendency 
of these habits being only to guide it into the right path, and to 
teach it to proceed cautiously, according to certain general rules, 
warranted by experience. 

The encouragement which philosophical pursuits give to this 
natural disposition, arises chiefly from the innumerable proofs they 
afford of that systematical unity and harmony of design which are 
everywhere conspicuous in the universe. On this unity of design 
is founded the most solid argument which the light of reason 
supplies for the unity of God: but the knowledge of the general 
fact on which that argument proceeds is not confined to the student 
of theology. It forces itself irresistibly on the thoughts of all who 
are familiarly conversant with the phenomena either of the material 
or of the moral world; and is recognised as a principle of reason¬ 
ing, even by those who pay little or no attention to its most sublime 
and important application. 

It is well known to all who have the slightest acquaintance with 
the history of medicine , that the anatomical knowledge of the 
ancients was derived almost entirely from analogical conjectures, 
founded on the dissection of the lower animals *; and that, in con- 

* “ If we read the works of Hippocrates with impartiality, and apply his accounts of 
the parts to what we now know of the human body, we must allow his descriptions to 
be imperfect, incorrect, sometimes extravagant, and often unintelligible, that of the 
bones only excepted. He seems to have studied these with more success than the 
other parts, and tells us, that he had an opportunity of seeing a human skeleton. 

w Erasistratus and Herophilus, two distinguished anatomists at Alexandria, were 
probably the first who were authorized to dissect human bodies. Their voluminous 
works are all lost ; but they are quoted by Galen, almost in every page. 

“ What Galen principally wanted was opportunities of dissecting human bodies : 
for his subject was most commonly some quadruped whose structure was supposed to 
come nearest to the human. 

“ About the year 1540, the great Vesalius appeared. He was equally laborious in 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


492 


sequence of this, many misrepresentations of facts, and many 
erroneous theories (blended, however, with various important 
truths,) were transmitted to the physiologists of modern Europe. 
What is the legitimate inference to be deduced from these premises ? 
Not, surely, that analogy is an organ of no use in the study of 
nature ; but that, although it may furnish a rational ground of 
conjecture and inquiry, it ought not to be received as direct 
evidence, where the fact itself lies open to examination; and that 
the conclusions to which it leads, ought, in every case, to be 
distrusted, in proportion as the subjects compared depart from an 
exact coincidence in all their circumstances. 

As our knowledge of nature enlarges, we gradually learn to 
combine the presumptions arising from analogy , with other general 
principles by which they are limited and corrected. In comparing, 
for example, the anatomy of different tribes of animals, we invari¬ 
ably find, that the differences in their structure have a reference to 
their way of life, and to the habits for which they are destined ; so 
that, from knowing the latter, we might be able, on some occasions, 
to frame conjectures a priori concerning the former. It is thus 
that the form of the teeth, together with the length and capacity of 
the intestines, vary in different species, according to the quality of 
the food on which the animal is to subsist. Similar remarks have 
been made on the different situation and disposition of the mammae, 
according as the animal is uniparous, or produces many at a birth; 
—on the structure and direction of the external ear, according as 
the animal is rapacious, or depends for security on his speed;—on 
the mechanism of the pupil of the eye, according as the animal has 
to search for his food by day or by night,—and on various other 
organs in the bodily economy, when compared with the functions 
which they are intended to perform. If, without attending to cir¬ 
cumstances of this sort, a person should reason confidently from the 
anatomy of one species to that of another, it cannot be justly said, 
that analogy is a deceitful guide, but that he does not know how to 
apply analogy to its proper purpose. In truth, the very considera¬ 
tion which gives to the argument from analogy its chief force, 
points here manifestly to the necessity of some modification of the 
original conclusion, suited to the diversity of the case to which it is 
to be applied. 

It is remarked by Cuvier, that “ a canine tooth, adapted to tear 


reading the ancients, and in dissecting bodies ; and in making the comparison, he could 
not but see that many of Galen’s descriptions were erroneous.—The spirit of oppo¬ 
sition and emulation was presently roused, and many of his contemporaries endea¬ 
voured to defend Galen, at the expense of Vesalius. In their disputes they made their 
appeals to the human body ; and thus in a few years our art was greatly improved. 
And Vesalius being detected in the very fault which he condemns in Galen, to wit, 
describing from the dissections of brutes, and not of the human body, it exposed so 
fully that blunder of the older anatomists, that, in succeeding times, there has been 
little reason for such complaint.” 

Introductory Lectures, delivered by Dr. William Hunter, to his last course of ana¬ 
tomy, (London, 1784,) pp. 13, 19, 25, 40. 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 493 

flesh, was never found combined, in the same animal, with a hoof 
fit for supporting the weight of the body, but totally useless as a 
weapon to a beast of prey .”—“ Hence,” he observes, “ the rule that 
every hoofed animal is herbivorous ;—and hence, as corollaries from 
this general principle, the maxims, that a hoofed foot indicates 
grinding teeth with flat surfaces, a long alimentary canal, a large 
stomach, and often more stomachs than one, with many other 
similar consequences. 

“ The laws which regulate the relations between different systems 
of organs,” continues this very ingenious. and sound philosopher, 
“ have the same influence on the different parts of the same system, 
and connect together its different modifications, by the same neces¬ 
sary principles. In the alimentary system, especially, where the 
parts are large and numerous, these rules have their most striking 
applications. The form of the teeth, the length, the convolutions, 
the dilatations of the alimentary canal, the number and abundance of 
the gastric liquors, are in the most exact adaptation to one another, 
and have similar fixed relations to the chemical composition, to the 
solid aggregation, and to the solubility of the aliment; insomuch 
that, from seeing one of the parts by itself, an experienced observer 
could form conclusions tolerably accurate, with respect to the con¬ 
formation of the other parts of the same system, and might even 
hazard more than random conjectures with respect to the organs of 
other functions. 

“ The same harmony subsists among the different parts of the 
systems of organs of motion. As all the parts of this system act 
mutually, and are acted upon, especially when the whole body of 
the animal is in motion, the forms of all the different parts are 
strictly related. There is hardly a bone that can vary in its sur¬ 
faces, in its curvatures, in its protuberances, without corresponding 
variations in other hones; and in this way a skilful naturalist, from 
the appearance of a single bone, will be often able to conclude* to a 
certain extent, with respect to the form of the whole skeleton to 
which it belonged. 

“ These laws of co-existence,” Cuvier adds, “ which have just 
been indicated, are deduced by reasoning from our knowledge of 
the reciprocal influence of the- functions, and of the uses of the dif¬ 
ferent organs of the body. Having confirmed them by observation, 
we are enabled, in other circumstances, to follow a contrary route; 
and, when we discover constant relations of form between particular 
organs, we may safely conclude that they exercise some action upon 
one another; and we may thus be frequently led to form just con¬ 
jectures with respect to their uses.—It is, indeed, chiefly from the 
attentive study of these relations, and from the discovery of relations 
which have hitherto escaped our notice, that physiology has reason 
to hope for the extension of her limits ; and accordingly, the com¬ 
parative anatomy of animals is to her one of the most fruitful sources 
of valuable discovery.”* 

* See the Introduction to the LeQons d’Anatomie comparee de G. Cuvier. The 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


494 


[The general result of these excellent observations is, that the 
improvement of physiology is to be expected chiefly from lights fur¬ 
nished by analogy , but that, in order to follow this guide with 
safety, a cautious and refined logic is still more necessary than in 
conducting those reasonings which rest on the direct evidence of 
experience.] When the ancient anatomists, without any examina¬ 
tion of the facts within their reach, or any consideration of the 
peculiar functions likely to be connected with man’s erect form and 
rational faculties, drew inferences concerning his internal frame, 
merely from the structure of the quadrupeds; the errors into which 
they fell,—so far from affording any solid argument against the use 
of analogy when judiciously employed,—have only pointed out to 
their successors the necessity of a more discriminating and enlight¬ 
ened application of it in future; and have ultimately led to the 
discovery of those comprehensive laws of the animal economy, 
which, by reconciling apparent anomalies with the consistency and 
harmony of one grand design, open, at every successive step of our 
progress, more enlarged and pleasing views of the beneficent wis¬ 
dom of Nature. 

This speculation might be carried farther, by extending it to the 
various analogies which exist between the animal and the vegetable 
kingdoms, contrasted with those characteristical peculiarities by 
which they are respectively adapted to the purposes for which they 
are destined. It is, however, of more consequence, on the present 
occasion, to turn our attention to the analogies observable among 
many of the physical processes by which different effects are accom¬ 
plished, or different phenomena produced, in the system of inani¬ 
mate and unorganized matter. Of the existence of such analogies a 
satisfactory proof may be derived, from the acknowledged tendency 
of philosophical habits and scientific pursuits to familiarize the 
mind with the order of nature, and to improve its penetration in 
anticipating future discoveries. A man conversant with physics and 
chemistry is much more likely than a stranger to these studies to 
form probable conjectures concerning those laws of nature which 
still remain to be examined. There is a certain character or style, 
if I may use the expression, in the operations of Divine Wisdom; 
—something which everywhere announces, amidst an infinite variety 
of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of design; and in the 
perception of which philosophical sagacity and genius seem chiefly 
to consist. It is this which bestows a value so inestimable on the 
Queries of Newton.* 


above translation is taken from a very interesting tract, entitled An Introduction to 
the study of the Animal Economy. (Edinburgh, 1801.) 

* How very deeply Newton’s mind was impressed with those ideas of analogy 
which I have here ventured to ascribe to him, appears from his own words. “ Have not 
the small particles of bodies certain powers, virtues, or forces by which they act at a 
distance, not only upon the rays of light for reflecting, refracting, and inflecting them, 
but also upon one another, for producing a great part of the phenomena of nature ? 
For it is well known that bodies act one upon another, by the attractions of gravity, 
magnetism, and electricity ; and these instances show the tenor and course ofnature, 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


495 

This view of the numberless analogies displayed in that part of 
the universe which falls under our immediate notice, becomes more 
particularly impressive when it is considered that the same unity 
of design may be distinctly traced as far as the physical researches 
of astronomers have extended. In the knowledge of this fact, we 
possess important moral lights, for which we are entirely indebted 
to the Newtonian school; the universal creed of antiquity having 
assumed as a principle, that the celestial phenomena are, in their 
nature and laws, essentially different from the terrestrial. The 
Persian magi, indeed, are said to have laid down, as one of their 
maxims,— crvimaOr] avat ra avca tols Karoo* —but that no maxim 
could stand in more direct opposition to the tenets of the Grecian 
philosophers, appears sufficiently from the general strain of their 
physical and astronomical theories. The modern discoveries have 
shown, with demonstrative evidence, how widely, in this funda¬ 
mental assumption, these philosophers erred from the truth; and, 
indeed it was a conjecture a priori , originating in some degree of 
scepticism with respect to it, that led the way to the doctrine of 
gravitation. Every subsequent step which has been gained in 
astronomical science has tended more and more to illustrate the 
sagacity of those views by which Newton was guided to this for¬ 
tunate anticipation of the truth; as well as to confirm, upon a scale 
which continually grows in its magnitude, the justness of that mag¬ 
nificent conception of uniform design which emboldened him to 
connect the physics of the earth with the hitherto unexplored 
mysteries of the heavens. 

Instructive and interesting, however, as these physical specula¬ 
tions may be, it is still more pleasing to trace the uniformity of 
design which is displayed in the economy of sensitive beings; to 
compare the arts of human life with the instincts of the brutes, and 
the instincts of the different tribes of brutes with each other; and 
to remark, amidst the astonishing variety of means which are 
employed to accomplish the same ends, a certain analogy charac¬ 
terize them all;—or to observe, in the minds of different indivi¬ 
duals of our own species, the workings of the same affections and 
passions, manifesting, among men of every age and of every 
country, the kindred features of humanity. It is this which gives 
the great charm to what we call Nature in epic and dramatic com¬ 
position,—when the poet speaks a language “ to which every heart 
is an echo,” and which, amidst the manifold effects of education 

and make it not improbable but that there may be more attractive powers than these. 
For nature is very consonant and conformable to herself.” See the 31st Query at the 
end of his Optics. 

In a subsequent part of this Query, he recurs to the same principle : “ And thus 
Nature will be very conformable to herself and very simple ; performing all the great 
motions of the heavenly bodies by the attraction of gravity, which intercedes those 
bodies ; and almost all the small ones of their particles, by some other attractive and 
repelling powers, which intercede the particles.” 

* “ That things above and below have sympathy.” 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


496 


and fashion, in modifying and disguising the principles of our con¬ 
stitution, reminds all the various classes of readers or of spectators, 
of the existence of those moral ties which unite them to each other, 
and to their common parent.—(Outlines of Moral Philosophy, pp. 
198, 199, 3rd edit.) 

[Nor is it only in the material and moral worlds, when considered 
as separate and independent systems, that this unity of design is 
perceptible. They mutually bear to each other numberless rela¬ 
tions, which are more particularly remarkable when we consider 
both in their combined tendencies with respect to human happiness 
and improvement. There is also a more general analogy, which 
these two grand departments of nature exhibit, in the laws by which 
their phenomena are regulated , and a consequent analogy between 
the methods of investigation peculiarly applicable to each.] I have 
already repeatedly taken notice of the erroneous conclusions to 
which we are liable, when we reason directly from the one to the 
other, or substitute the fanciful analogies between them, which 
language occasionally suggests, as a philosophical explanation of 
the phenomena of either. But it does not follow from this, that 
there is no analogy between the rules of inquiry, according to 
which they are to be studied. On the contrary, it is from the 
principles of inductive philosophising, which are applicable to both 
in common, that we infer the necessity of resting our conclusions, 
in each, upon its own appropriate phenomena. 

I shall only add to what has been now stated, on the head of 
analogy, that the numberless references and dependencies between 
the material and the moral worlds, exhibited within the narrow 
sphere of our observation on this globe, encourage and even autho¬ 
rize us to conclude, that they both form parts of one and the same 
plan; a conclusion congenial to the best and noblest principles of 
our nature, and which all the discoveries of genuine science unite 
in confirming. Nothing, indeed, could be more inconsistent with 
that irresistible disposition which prompts every philosophical 
inquirer to argue from the known to the unknown, than to sup¬ 
pose that, while all the different bodies which compose the material 
universe are manifestly related to each other, as parts of a connected 
whole, the moral events which happen on our planet are quite 
insulated; and that the rational beings who inhabit it, and for 
whom we may reasonably presume it was brought into existence, 
have no relation whatever to other intelligent and moral natures. 
The presumption unquestionably is, that there is one great moral 
system, corresponding to the material system; and that the con¬ 
nexions which we at present trace so distinctly among the sensible 
objects composing the one, are exhibited as so many intimations 
of some vast scheme, comprehending all the intelligent beings who 
compose the' other. In this argument, as well as in numberless 
others, which analogy suggests in favour of our future prospects, 
the evidence is precisely of the same sort with that which first 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 497 

encouraged Newton to extend his physical speculations beyond 
the limits of the earth. The sole difference is, that he had an 
opportunity of verifying the results of his conjectures by an appeal 
to sensible facts; but this accidental circumstance (although it 
certainly affords peculiar satisfaction and conviction to the astrono- 
mei s mind) does not affect the grounds on which the conjecture 
was originally formed, and only furnishes an experimental proof of 
the justness of the principles on which it proceeded. Were it 
not, however, for the palpable confirmation thus obtained of the 
theory of gravity, it would be difficult to vindicate, against the 
charge of presumption, the mathematical accuracy with which the 
Newtonians pretend to compute the motions, distances, and mag¬ 
nitudes of worlds, apparently so far removed beyond the examina¬ 
tion of our faculties.* 

Ihe. foregoing observations have a close connexion with some 
reasonings hereafter to be offered in defence of the doctrine of final 
causes. They also throw additional light on what was remarked 
in a former chapter concerning the unity of truth ;—a most im¬ 
portant fact in the theory of the human mind, and a fact which 
must strike every candid inquirer with increasing evidence, in 
proportion to the progress which he makes in the interpretation of 
Nature. Hence the effect of philosophical habits in animating 
the curiosity, and in guiding the inventive powers ; and hence the 
growing confidence which they inspire in the ever consistent and 
harmonious conclusions of inductive science. It is chiefly (as 
Bacon has observed) from partial and desultory researches that 
scepticism arises ; not only as such researches suggest doubts which 
a more enlarged acquaintance with the universe would dispel, but 

* “I know no author,” says Dr. Reid , et who has made a more just and a more 
happy use of analogical reasoning than Bishop Butler, in his Analogy of Religion, 
Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature. In that excellent 
work, the author does not ground any of the truths of religion upon analogy, as their 
proper evidence. He only makes use of analogy to answer objections against them. 
When objections are made against the truths of religion, which may be made with 
equal strength against what we know to be true in the course of nature, such objections 
can have no weight.”—Intell. Powers, Essay I. Chap. IV. § iv. edit. 1843. 

To the same purpose it is observed by Dr. Campbell, that “ analogical evidence 
is generally more successful in silencing objections than in evincing truth. Though it 
rarely refutes, it frequently repels refutation ; like those weapons which, though they 
cannot kill the enemy, will ward his blows.”—Phil, of Rhet. vol. i. p. 145. 

This estimate of the force of analogical reasoning, considered as a weapon of contro¬ 
versy, is discriminating and judicious. The occasion on which the logician wields it to 
the best advantage is, undoubtedly, in repelling the objections of an adversary. But 
after the foregoing observations, I may be permitted to express my doubts whether 
both of these ingenious writers have not somewhat underrated the importance of 
analogy as a medium of proof, and as a source of new information. I acknowledge, 
at the same time, that between the positive and the negative applications of this 
species of evidence, there is an essential difference. When employed to refute an 
objection, it may often furnish an argument irresistibly and unanswerably con¬ 
vincing ; when employed as a medium of proof, it can never authorise more than a 
probable conjecture, inviting and encouraging farther examination. In some in¬ 
stances, however, the probability resulting from a concurrence of different analogies 
may rise so high as to produce an effect on the belief scarcely distinguishable from 
moral certainty. 


K K 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


498 


as they withdraw the attention from those comprehensive views 
which combine into a symmetrical fabric—all whose parts mutually 
lend to each other support and stability—the most remote, and 
seemingly the most unconnected discoveries. “ Etenim symmetria 
sciential singulis scilicet partibus se invicem sustinentibus, est, et 
esse debet, vera atque expedita ratio refellendi objectiones mino- 
rum gentium : Contra, si singula axiomata, tanquam baculos fascis 
seorsim extrahas, facile erit ea infirmare, et pro libito, aut flectere, 
aut frangere. Num noil in aula spatiosa consultius^foret, unum 
accendere cereum, aut lychnuchum suspendere, variis luminibus 
instructum, quo omnia simul perlustrentur, quam in singulos 
angulos quaquaversus exiguam circumferre lucernam ?”—(De Aug¬ 
ment. Scient. lib. i.) * 

II. Use and Abuse of Hypotheses in Philosophical Inquiries .— 
Difference between Gratuitous Hypotheses , and those which are sup¬ 
ported by presumptions suggested by Analogy.—Indirect Evidence 
which a Hypothesis may derive from its agreement with the Pheno¬ 
mena.—Cautions against extending some of these conclusions to the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind. —As some of the reasonings in the 
former part of this section may, at first sight, appear more favour¬ 
able to the use of hypotheses than is consistent with the severe 
rules of the inductive logic, it may not be superfluous to guard 
against any such misapprehensions of my meaning, by subjoining 
a few miscellaneous remarks and illustrations. 

The indiscriminate zeal against hypotheses, so generally avowed 
at present by the professed followers of Bacon, has been much 
encouraged by the strong and decided terms in which, on various 
occasions, they are reprobated by Newton.t But the language of 
this great man, when he happens to touch upon logical questions, 
must not always be too literally interpreted. It must be qualified 
and limited, so as to accord with the exemplifications which he 
himself has given of his general rules. Of the truth of this re¬ 
mark, the passages now alluded to afford a satisfactory proof; for, 
while they are expressed in the most unconditional and absolute 
terms, so many exceptions to them occur in his own writings, as to 
authorise the conclusion, that he expected his readers would of 
themselves be able to supply the obvious and necessary comments. 


* “For, the symmetry of science, the parts mutually sustaining each other, is, and 
ought to he, the true and ready way of refuting objections of minor importance ; on the 
other hand, if you select single axioms, like the sticks of a bundle drawn out sepa¬ 
rately, it will be easy to weaken them, and at pleasure either bend or break them. 
Would it not be better in a spacious apartment to suspend one lustre having several 
lights, by which all parts might be enlightened, than to take round on every side a 
small light into all the corners V *—On the Advancement of Learning. 

t “ Hypotheses non fingo. Quicquid enim ex phenomenis non deducitur hypothesis 
vocanda est, et hypotheses, seu metaphysicse, seu physic®, seu qualitatum occultarum, 
seu mechanic®, in philosophia exp.erimentali locum non habent.” See the general 
Scholium at the end of the Principia. [I form no hypotheses. For whatever is not de* 
duced from phenomena should be called an hypothesis, and hypotheses, whether metac 
physical, physical, mechanical, or of occult qualities, have no place in experimental 
philosophy.] 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


499 


It is probable that, in these passages, he had more particularly in 
his eye the Vortices of Des Cartes. 

“ The votaries of hypotheses,” says Dr. Reid, “ have often been 
challenged to show one useful discovery in the works of nature that 
was ever made in that way.”* In reply to this challenge, it is 
sufficient, on the present occasion, to mention the theory of Gravi¬ 
tation, and the Copernican system. (See note p p.) Of the 
former, we have the testimony of Dr. Pemberton, that it took its 
first rise from a conjecture or hypothesis suggested by analogy; nor 
indeed could it be considered in any other light, till that period 
in Newton’s life, when, by a calculation founded on the accurate 
measurement of the earth by Picard, he evinced the coincidence 
between the law which regulates the fall of heavy bodies, and the 
power which retains the moon in her orbit. The Copernican 
system, however, furnishes a case still stronger, and still more 
directly applicable to our purpose; inasmuch as the only evidence 
which the author was able to offer in its favour, was the advantage 
which it possessed over every other hypothesis, in explaining with 
simplicity and beauty, all the phenomena of the heavens. In the 
mind of Copernicus, therefore, this system was nothing more than 
a hypothesis;—but it was a hypothesis conformable to the universal 
analogy of nature, always accomplishing her ends by the simplest 
means. “ C’est pour la simplicite,” says Bailly, “ que Copernic 
repla 9 a le soleil au centre du monde; c’est pour elle que Kepler va 
detruire tous les epicycles que Copernic avoit laisses subsister: peu 
de principes, de grands moyens en petit nombre, des phenomenes 
infinis et varies, voila le tableau de l’univers.”f (Histoire de 
l’Astronomie Moderne, tome ii. p. 2 .) 

* Intellectual Powers of Man, Essay II. Chap. III. § vn. p. 62. edit. 1843. In another 
part of the same volume, the following assertion occurs :—“ Of all the discoveries that 
have been made concerning the inward structure of the human body, never one was made 

by conjecture.-The same thing may be said, with justice, of every other part of the 

works of God, wherein any real discovery has been made. Such discoveries have 
always been made by patient observation, by accurate experiments, or by conclusions 
drawn by strict reasoning from observations and experiments ; and such discoveries 
have always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hypotheses which 
ingenious men had invented.” Ibid. Essay I. Chap. III. § xi. p. 31-32. edit. 1843. 

t « It is from a regard to simplicity that Copernicus assigned to the sun a place in 
the centre of the world : from the same motive Kepler rejected all the epicycles which 
Copernicus had allowed to remain. The picture of the universe may be stated—a few 
principles, a few powerful means, infinite and varied phenomena.—History of Mo¬ 
dern Astronomy.”—From this anticipation of simplicity in the laws of nature, 
(a logical principle not less universally recognised among ancient than among modern 
philosophers,) Bailly has drawn an argument in support of his favourite hypothesis 
concerning the origin of the sciences. His words are these : “ La simplicite' n’est pas 
essentiellement un principe, un axiome, c’est le resultat des travaux ; ce n est pas une 
idee de l’enfance du monde, elle appartient a la maturite des hommes ; c’est la plus 
grande des ve'rites que l’observation constante arrache a l’illusion des effets: ce ne 
peut etre qu’un reste de la science primitive. Lorsque chez un peuple, possesseur 
d’uue mythologie compliquee, et qui n’a d’autre physique que ces fables, les philo- 
sophes, voulant reduire la nature a un seul principe, annonceront que l’eau est la 
source de toutes choses, ou le feu l’agent universal, nous dirons h ces philosopnes : 
vous parlez une langue que n’est pas la votre ; vous avez saisi par un instinct phi oso- 

k k 2 



PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


500 


According to this view of the subject, the confidence which we 
repose in analogy rests ultimately on the evidence of experience; 
and hence, an additional argument in favour of the former method 
of investigation, when cautiously followed; as well as an additional 
proof of the imperceptible shades by which experience and analogy run 
into each other. 

Nor is the utility of hypothetical theories confined to those cases 
in which they have been confirmed by subsequent researches: it 
may be equally great, where they have completely disappointed the 
expectations of their authors. Nothing, I think, can be juster than 
Hartley’s remark, that <f any hypothesis which possesses a sufficient 
degree of plausibility to account for a number of facts, helps us to 
digest these facts in proper order, to bring new ones to light, and to 
make experimenta crucis for the sake of future inquirers.”—(Ob¬ 
servations on Man, Chap. i. Prop, v.) Indeed, it has probably been 
in this way that most discoveries have been made; for although a 
knowledge of facts must be prior to the formation of a legitimate 
theory; yet a hypothetical theory is generally the best guide to the 
knowledge of connected and of useful facts. 

The first conception of a hypothetical theory, it must always be 
remembered, (if the theory possesses any plausibility whatever,) 
presupposes a general acquaintance with the phenomena which it 
aims to account for; and it is by reasoning synthetically from the 
hypothesis, and comparing the deductions with observation and 
experiment, that the cautious inquirer is gradually led, either to 


phique ces verites au-dessus de votre siecle, de votre nation, et de vous-memes; c’est 
la sagesse des anciens qui vous a ete transmise par tradition,” &c. &c. &c. [Sim¬ 
plicity is not essentially a principle, an axiom : it is the I’esult of labour ; it is not an idea 
originating in the infancy of the world, it belongs to the maturity of the human race ; it 
is the greatest truth that constant observation draws from the illusion of effects ; it can 
only be a relic of primitive knowledge. When amongst a people having a complicated 
mythology, and which has no other notions respecting physics but these fables, philo¬ 
sophers wishing to reduce nature to a single principle, declare that water is the origin 
of all things, or that fire is the universal agent ; we should say to such philosophers, 
you speak a language which is not your own ; you have seized by philosophical instinct 
truths above your nation, your age, and yourselves ; it is ancient wisdom which has 
been transmitted to you by tradition.]—History of Modern Astronomy, vol. ii. p. 4. 

To the general remark which introduces this passage I readily subscribe. The 
confidence with which philosophers anticipate the simplicity of Nature’s laws is un¬ 
questionably the result of experience, and of experience alone ; and implies a far 
more extensive knowledge of her operations than can be expected from the uninformed 
multitude. The inference, however, deduced from this, by the ingenious and eloquent, 
but sometimes too fanciful historian, is not a little precipitate. The passion for ex¬ 
cessive simplification, so remarkably exemplified in the physical systems of the Greeks, 
seems to be sufficiently accounted for by their scanty stock of facts, combined with 
that ambition to explain everything from the smallest possible number of data, which, 
in all ages of the world, has been one of the most common infirmities of genius. On 
the other hand, the principle in question, when stated in the form of a proposition, is 
of so abstract and metaphysical a nature, that it is highly improbable it should have 
survived the shock of revolutions which had proved fatal to the memory of particular 
discoveries. The arts, it has been frequently observed, are more easily transmitted by 
mere tradition, from one generation to another, than the speculative sciences ; and for 
a similar reason, physical systems are far less likely to sink into oblivion than abstract 
maxims, which have no immediate reference to objects of sense, or to the ordinary 
concerns of life. 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


501 


correct it in such a manner as to reconcile it with facts, or finally to 
abandon it as an unfounded conjecture. Even in this latter case, 
an approach is made to the truth in the way of exclusion; while, 
at the same time, an accession is gained to that class of associated 
and kindred phenomena, which it is his object to trace to their 
parent stock.* 

In thus apologising for the use of hypotheses, I only repeat in a 
different form the precepts of Bacon, and the comments of some of 
his most enlightened followers. “ The prejudice against hypo¬ 
theses which many people entertain,” says the late Dr. Gregory, 
“ is founded on the equivocal signification of a word. It is com¬ 
monly confounded with theory:—but a hypothesis properly means 
the supposition of a principle of whose existence there is no proof 
from experience, but which may be rendered more or less probable 
by facts which are neither numerous enough, nor adequate to infer 
its existence. When such hypotheses are proposed in the modest 
and diffident manner that becomes mere suppositions or conjectures, 
they are not only harmless, but even necessary for establishing a 
just theory. They are the first rudiments or anticipations of prin¬ 
ciples. Without these, there could not be useful observation, nor 
experiment, nor arrangement, because there could be no motive or 
principle in the mind to form them. Hypotheses then only become 
dangerous and censurable, when they are imposed on us for just 
principles; because in that case, they put a stop to further inquiry, 
by leading the mind to acquiesce in principles which may as pro¬ 
bably be ill as well founded.”—(Lectures on the Duties and the 
Qualifications of a Physician.) 

Another eminent writer has apologised very ingeniously, and I 
think very philosophically, for the hypotheses and conjectures which 
are occasionally to be found in his own works. The author I mean 
is Dr. Stephen Hales, who, in the preface to the second volume of 
his Vegetable Statics, has expressed himself thus : 

“ In natural philosophy we cannot depend on any mere specu¬ 
lations of the mind : we can only reason with any tolerable certainty 
from proper data, such as arise from the united testimony of many 
good and credible experiments. 

“ Yet it seems not unreasonable, on the other hand, though not 
far to indulge, to carry our reasonings a little farther than the plain 


* “ Illud interim monemus ; ut nemo animo concidat, aut quasi confundatur, si 
experiment^,, quibus incumbit, expectationi suse non respondeaut. Etenina quod 
succedit, magis complaceat ; at quod non succedit ssepenumero non minus informat. 
Atque illud semper in animo tenendum, experimenta lucifera etiamadhuc magis, quam 
fructifera ambienda esse. Atque de literata experientia lime dicta sint; qum sagacitas 
potius est, et odoratio qumdam venatica, quam scientia.”—De Augm. Scient. lib. v. 
cap. ii TWe in the meantime give this warning, that no one be dejected or con¬ 
founded if the experiments on which he depended should not answer expectation, t or 
what succeeds should gratify him, and what does not succeed often,gives him .equal 
instruction. And we should always bear in mind that experiments which enlighten 
should be more pursued than those which are fruitful. Let so much be said c o nc ® rn 
ing experience, which is rather sagacity and a sort of hunting out, than kuowle g .J 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


502 


evidence of experiments will warrant: for since at the utmost 
boundaries of those things which we clearly know, a kind of twi¬ 
light is cast on the adjoining borders of Terra Incognita , it seems 
reasonable, in some degree, to indulge conjecture there; otherwise 
we should make but very slow advances, either by experiments or 
reasoning.' For new experiments and discoveries usually owe their 
first rise only to lucky guesses and probable conjectures; and even 
disappointments in these conjectures often lead to the things sought 
for.” 

To these quotations I shall add two short extracts from Dr. 
Hooke, the contemporary or rather the predecessor of Newton, 
whose acute and original remarks on this subject reflect the greater 
credit on his talents, that they were published at a period when 
the learned body of which he was so illustrious an ornament seem 
plainly to have been more disposed to follow the letter of some 
detached sentences, than to imbibe the general spirit of Bacon’s 
logic. 

“ There may be use of method in the collecting of materials, as 
well as in the employment of them; for there ought to be some 
end and aim; some pre-designed module and theory; some pur¬ 
pose in our experiments. And though this Society have hitherto 
seemed to avoid tmd prohibit preconceived theories and deductions 
from particular and seemingly accidental experiments ; yet I hum¬ 
bly conceive, that such, if knowingly and judiciously made, are 
matters of the greatest importance; as giving a characteristic of 
the aim, use, and signification thereof; and without which many, 
and possibly the most considerable particulars, are passed over 
without regard and observation.* 

“ Where the data on which our ratiocinations are founded are 
uncertain and only conjectural, the conclusions or deductions 
therefrom can at best be no other than probable, but still they 
become more and more probable, as the consequences deduced 
from them appear, upon examinations by trials and designed obser¬ 
vations, to be confirmed by fact or effect. So that the effect is that 
which consummates the demonstration of the invention; and the 
theory is only an assistant to direct such an inquisition as may 
procure the demonstration of its existence or non-existence.”* 

As an illustration of this last remark, Hooke mentions his anti¬ 
cipation of Jupiter’s motion upon his axis, long before he was able, 
by means of a good telescope, to ascertain the fact. A much more 
remarkable instance, however, of his philosophical sagacity occurs 
in his anticipation of that theory of the planetary motions which, 
soon after, was to present itself with increased and at length de¬ 
monstrative evidence, to a still more inventive and powerful mind. 
This conjecture (which I shall state in his own words) affords of 
itself a decisive reply to the undistinguishing censures which have 

* Hooke’s Posthumous Works, p. 280. 

+ Ibid. p. 537. For another extract from the same work, see note q 


OF THE INDUCTIVE*LOGIC. 


503 


so often been bestowed on the presumptuous vanity of attempting, 
by means of hypotheses, to penetrate into the secrets of nature. 

“ I will explain,” says Hooke, in a communication to the Royal 
Society, in 1666, “ a system of the world very different from any 
yet received. It is founded on the three following positions. 

“ 1. That all the heavenly bodies have not only a gravitation of 
their parts to their own proper centre, but that they also mutually 
attract each other within their spheres of action. 

“2. That all bodies having a simple motion, will continue to 
move in a straight line, unless continually deflected from it by some 
extraneous force, causing them to describe a circle, an ellipse, or 
some other curve. 

“ 3. That this attraction is so much the greater as the bodies are 
nearer. As to the proportion in which those forces diminish by an 
increase of distance, I own I have not discovered it, although I 
have made some experiments to this purpose. I leave this to 
others, who have time and knowledge sufficient for the task.” 

The argument in favour of hypotheses might be pushed much 
farther, by considering the tentative or hypothetical steps by which 
the most cautious philosophers are often under the necessity of 
proceeding, in conducting inquiries strictly experimental. These 
cannot be better described than in the words of Boscovich, the 
slightest of whose logical hints are entitled to peculiar attention.— 
“ In some instances, observations and experiments at once reveal 
to us all that we wish to know. In other cases, we avail ourselves 
of the aid of hypotheses;—by which word, however, is to be un¬ 
derstood, not fictions altogether arbitrary, but suppositions con¬ 
formable to experience or to analogy. By means of these we are 
enabled to supply the defects of our data, and to conjecture or 
divine the path to truth; always ready to abandon our hypothesis, 
when found to involve consequences inconsistent with fact. And, 
indeed, in most cases, I conceive this to be the method best adapted 
to physics; a science in which the procedure of the inquirer may 
be compared to that of a person attempting to decipher a letter 
written in a secret character; and in which legitimate theories are 
generally the slow result of disappointed essays, and of errors which 
have led the way to their own detection.”* 

* De Solis ac Lunse Defectibus. [Concerning the Eclipses of the Sun and Moon.] 
Lond. 1760, pp. 211, 212. For the continuation of the above passage, see note r r. 

Many remarks to the same purpose may be found in Bacon. The following happen 
at present to occur to my memory. 

« Deo (formarum inditori et opifici) et fortasse angelis competit, formas per affirma- 
tionem immediate nosse, atque ab initio contemplationis. Sed certe supra hominem 
est; cui tantum conceditur, procedere primo per negativas, et postremo loco desinere 

in affirmativas, post omnimodam exclusionem.Post rejectionem et 

exclusionem debitis modis factam, secundo loco (tanquam in fundo) manebit (abeunti- 
bus in fumurn opinionibus volatilibus) forma affirmativa, solida, et vera. Atque hoc 
brevi dictu est, sed per multas ambages ad hoc pervenitur.” (Nov. Org. lib. ii. Aphor. 
xv. xvi.) [It is a faculty possessed by the Deity, the bestower and producer of forms, 
and perhaps by angels, to contemplate forms immediately by affirmation, and from the 
commencement of contemplating them. But this is certainly above the powers of 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


504 


Nor is it solely by the erroneous results of his own hypotheses 
that the philosopher is assisted in the investigation ot truth. 
Similar lights are often to be collected from the errors of his pre¬ 
decessors ; and hence it is, that accurate histories of the different 
sciences may justly be ranked among the most effectual means of 
accelerating their future advancement. It was from a review of 
the endless and hopeless wanderings of preceding inquirers, that 
Bacon inferred the necessity of avoiding every beaten tract; and it 
was this which encouraged him,—with a confidence in his own 
powers amply justified by the event,—to explore and to open a new 
path to the mysteries of nature: Inveniam viam, aut faciam. In 
this respect, the maturity of reason in the species is analogous to 
that in the individual; not the consequence of any sudden or acci¬ 
dental cause, but the fruit of reiterated disappointments correcting 
the mistakes of youth and inexperience. “ There is no subject,” 
says Fontenelle, “ on which men ever come to form a reasonable 
opinion, till they have once exhausted all the absurd views which 
it is possible to take of it. What follies,” he adds, “ should we not 
be repeating at this day, if we had not been anticipated in so many 
of them by the ancient philosophers ! ”—Those systems, therefore, 
which are false, are by no means to be regarded as altogether use¬ 
less. That of Ptolemy, for example, as Bailly has well observed, 
is founded on a prejudice so natural and so unavoidable, that it may 
be considered as a necessary step in the progress of astronomical 
science; and if it had not been proposed in ancient times, it would 


man, who is permitted only to proceed first by negatives, and finally to terminate in 
affirmatives after various exclusions. After rejection and exclusion systematically 
made, the fleeting notions will pass off into smoke, and then the sound and true affirma¬ 
tive will remain in the next place, as if at the bottom.] 

“ Prudens interrogatio, quasi dimidium scientise. Idc.irco quo amplior et certior 
fuerit anticipatio nostra ; eo magis directa et compendiosa erit investigatio.” (De 
Aug Scient. lib. v. cap. 3.) [A wise mode of interrogating is half of a science. There¬ 
fore, in proportion as our anticipation shall be more comprehensive and sure, in the 
same proportion will the investigation be more direct and brief.] 

“ Vaga experientia et se tantum sequens mera palpatio est, et homines potius stupe- 
facit, quam informat.” (Nov. Org. lib. i. Aphor. c.) [Vague experience and follow¬ 
ing iu its own steps is mere groping, and rather distracts men than instructs them ] 
The reader who wishes to prosecute farther this speculation concerning the use of 
hypotheses, may consult with advantage three short but interesting memoirs upon 
Method, by the late M. Le Sage, of Geneva, which M. Prevost has annexed as a sup¬ 
plement to his # Essais de Philosophic. That I may not be supposed, however, to 
acquiesce in all this author’s views, I shall mention two strong objections to which 
some of them appear to me to be liable. 

1. In treating of the method of hypothesis, Le Sage uniformly contrasts it with that 
of analogy, as if the two were radically distinct, and even opposite in their spirit; 
whereas it seems evident, that some perception of analogy must have given birth to 
every hypothesis which possesses a sufficient degree of plausibility to deserve farther 
examination. 

2. In applying the rules of mathematical method to physics, he makes far too little 
allowance for the essential difference between the two sciences. This is more particu¬ 
larly remarkable in his observations on the aid to be derived, in investigating the laws 
of nature, from the method of exclusions,—so happily employed by Frenicle de Bessy 
(a French mathematician of the 17th century) in the solution of some very difficult pro¬ 
blems relating to numbers.—See note s s. 


OP THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 505 

infallibly have preceded, among the moderns, the system of Coper¬ 
nicus, and retarded the period of its discovery. 

In what I have hitherto said in defence of the method of hypo¬ 
thesis, I have confined myself entirely to its utility as an organ of 
investigation ; taking all along for granted, that, till the principle 
assumed has been fairly inferred as a law of nature, from undoubted 
facts, none of the explanations which it affords are to be admitted 
as legitimate theories. Some of the advocates for this method have, 
however, gone much farther ; asserting, that if a hypothesis be 
sufficient to account for all the phenomena in question, no other 
proof of its conformity to truth is necessary. “ Supposing,” says 
Dr. Hartley, “ the existence of the sether to be destitute of all 
direct evidence, still, if it serves to explain and account for a great 
variety of phenomena, it will, by this means, have an indirect 
argument in its favour. Thus, we admit the key of a cipher to be 
a true one, when it explains the cipher completely; and the deci¬ 
pherer judges himself to approach to the true key, in proportion 
as he advances in the explanation of the cipher ; and this without 
any direct evidence at all.” (Observations on Man, vol. i. pp. 15, 
16, 4th edit.) On another occasion he observes, that “ Philosophy 
is the art of deciphering the mysteries of nature; and that every 
theory which can explain all the phenomena, has the same evidence 
in its favour that it is possible the key of a cipher can have from 
its explaining that cipher.”* (Ibid. p. 350.) 

The same very ingenious and plausible reasoning is urged by 
Le Sage in one of his posthumous fragments ;f and long before the 
publication of Hartley’s work, it had struck Gravesande so strongly, 
that, in his “ Introductio ad Philosophiam,” he has subjoined to his 
chapter on the Use of Hypotheses, another on the Art of Deci¬ 
phering. Of the merit of the latter it is no slight proof, that 
D’Alembert has inserted the substance of it in one of the articles 
of the “ Encyclopedic. 

In reply to Hartley’s comparison between the business of the 
philosopher and that of the decipherer, Dr. Reid observes, that 
“ to find the key requires an understanding equal or superior to 
that which made the cipher. This instance, therefore,” he adds, 

* The section from which this quotation is taken (entitled “Of Propositions and the 
nature of Assent”) contains various ingenious and just observations, blended with 
others strongly marked with the author’s peculiar turn of thinking. Among these last 
may be mentioned his Theory of Mathematical Evidence, coinciding exactly with that 
which has since been proposed by Dr. Beddoes. Compare Hartley with page 381 of 
this volume. 

“ N’admettons-nous pas pour vraie, la clef d’une lettre ecrite en chiffres, ou celle 
d’une logogryphe ; quand cette clef s’applique exactement a tons les caracteres dont il 
faut rendre raison ?”—Opuscules de G. L. Le Sage, relatifs a la Methode. [Do 
we not admit as true the key of a letter written in cipher or of an enigma, when it 
applies exactly to all the characters which it is to explain ? Essays concerning 
Method. ] See M. Prevost’s Essais de Philosophic. 

+ Article Dechiffrer. [Article on Deciphering.] See also D’Alembert’s (Euvres 
Posthumes, [D’Alembert’s Posthumous Works,] tome ii. p 177.—Gravesande’s Logic 
was published in 1736. 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


506 


“ will then be in point, when he who attempts to decipher the 
works of nature by a hypothesis, has an understanding equal or 
superior to that which made them.” Intellectual Powers. Essay 
II. Chap. III. § vii. p. 62. edit. 8vo. 1843. 

[This argument is not stated with the author’s usual correctness 
in point of logic; inasmuch as the first proposition contrasts the 
sagacity of the decipherer with that of the contriver of the cipher; 
and the second, with that of the author of the composition deci¬ 
phered. Nor is this all. The argument proceeds on the supposi¬ 
tion that, if the task of the scientific inquirer be compared to that 
of the decipherer, the views of the author of nature may, with 
equal propriety, be compared to those of the inventor of the cipher.] 
It is impossible to imagine that this was Hartley’s idea. The object 
of true philosophy is in no case presumptuously to divine an alpha¬ 
bet of secret characters or ciphers, purposely employed by Infinite 
Wisdom to conceal its operations; but, by the diligent study of 
facts and analogies legible to all, to discover the. key which Infinite 
Wisdom has itself prepared for the interpretation of its own laws. 
In other words, its object is, to concentrate and to cast on the 
unknown parts of the universe the lights which are reflected from 
those which are known. 

In this instance, as well as in others, where Reid reprobates 
hypotheses, his reasoning uniformly takes for granted, that they are 
wholly arbitrary and gratuitous. “ If a thousand of the greatest 
wits,” says he, “ that ever the world produced, were, without any 
previous knowledge in anatomy, to sit down and contrive how, and 
by what internal organs, the various functions of the human body 
are carried on—how the blood is made to circulate, and the limbs to 
move—they would not, in a thousand years, hit upon anything like 
the truth.” Ibid. Essay I. Chap. III. § x. p. 31. ed. 1843. Nothing 
can be juster than this remark ; but does it authorise the conclusion, 
that, to an experienced and skilful anatomist, conjectures founded on 
analogy, and on the consideration of uses, are of no avail as media 
of discovery ? The logical inference, indeed, from Dr. Reid’s own 
statement is, not against anatomical conjectures in general, but against 
the anatomical conjectures of those who are ignorant of anatomy. 

The same reply may be made to the following assertion of 
D’Alembert; another writer, who, in my opinion, has on various 
occasions spoken much too lightly of analogical conjectures. “ It 
may be safely affirmed, that a mere theorist (un physicien de cabinet') 
who, by means of reasonings and calculations, should attempt to 
divine the phenomena of nature, and who should afterwards com¬ 
pare his anticipations with facts, would be astonished to find how 
wide of the truth almost all of them had been.”* If this observa¬ 
tion be confined to those system-builders who, without any know¬ 
ledge of facts, have presumed to form conclusions a priori concern- 

* Melanges de Litterature, &c. tome v. sec. 6. (entitled, Eclaircissement sur ce qui 
a ete dit, &c. de l’art de conjecturer.) 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


507 

ing the universe, its truth is so obvious and indisputable, that it was 
hardly worth the while of this profound philosopher so formally to 
announce it. If extended to such men as Copernicus, Kepler, and 
Newton, and to the illustrious train who have issued from the 
Newtonian school, it is contradicted by numberless examples, of 
which D’Alembert could not fail to be perfectly aware.* 

The sagacity which guides the philosopher in conjecturing the 
laws of nature, has, in its metaphysical origin, a very near affinity 
to that acquired perception of human character which is possessed 
by men of the world. The conclusions of one individual with 
respect to the springs of action in the breast of another, can never, 
on the most favourable supposition, amount to more than to a 
hypothesis supported by strong analogies ; yet how different is the 
value of the hypothesis, according to the intellectual habits of him 
by whom it is formed ! What more absurd and presumptuous than 
the theories of the cloistered schoolman concerning the moral or the 
political phenomena of active life ! What more interesting and 
instructive than the slightest characteristical sketches from the 
hand of a Sully or of a Clarendon ! 

To these suggestions in vindication of hypotheses it may be 
added, that some of the reasonings which, with propriety, were 
urged against them a century ago, have already, in consequence 
of the rapid progress of knowledge, lost much of their force. It 
is very justly remarked by M. Prevost, that “ at a period when 
science has advanced so far as to have accumulated an immense 
treasure of facts, the danger of hypotheses is less, and their advan¬ 
tages greater, than in times of comparative ignorance.” For this 
he assigns three reasons. “ (1.) The multitude of facts restrains 
imagination, by presenting, in every direction, obstacles to her 
wanderings, and by overturning her frail edifices. (2.) In propor¬ 
tion as facts multiply, the memory stands in greater need of the aid 
of connecting or associating principles.f (3.) The chance of dis¬ 
covering interesting and luminous relations among the objects of 
our knowledge increases with the growing number of the objects 
compared.” (See note tt.) The considerations already stated 
suggest a fourth reason in confirmation of the same general propo¬ 
sition :—That, by the extension of human knowledge, the scale 
upon which the analogies of nature may be studied is so augmented 
as to strike the most heedless eye ; while, by its diffusion, the per¬ 
ception of these analogies (so essential an element in the composi¬ 
tion of inventive genius) is insensibly communicated to all who 

* Accordingly, in another part of the same article, he has said : “ L’analogie, c’est- 
a-dire, la ressemblance plus ou moins grande des faits, le rapport plus ou moins sensible 
qu’ils ont entr’eux, est l’unique regie des physiciens, soit pour expliquer les faits 
connus, soit pour en ddcouvrir de nouveaux.” [Analogy, that is to say the greater or 
less resemblance of facts, the more or less obvious relations which they have to each 
other, is the sole rule of those who treat of physics either for the purpose of explaining 
known facts, or of discovering new ones.] 

•f* With respect to the utility of hypothetical theories, as adminicles to the natural 
powers of memory, see the former part of this work, chap. vi. sections 3 and 4. 


508 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


enjoy the advantages of a liberal education. Justly, therefore, 
might Bacon say, “ Certo sciant homines, artes inveniendi solidas 
et veras adolescere et incrementa sumere cum ipsis inventis.”* 

But although I do not think that Reid has been successful in his 
attempt to refute Hartley’s argument, I am far from considering 
that argument as sound or conclusive. My chief objections to it 
are the two following. 

(1.) The cases compared are by no means parallel. In that of 
the cipher, we have all the facts before us; and, if the key explains 
them, we may be certain that nothing can directly contradict the 
justness of our interpretation. In our physical researches, on the 
other hand, we are admitted to see only a few detached sentences 
extracted from a volume, of the size of which we are entirely igno¬ 
rant. No hypothesis, therefore, how numerous soever the facts 
may be with which it tallies, can completely exclude the possibility 
of exceptions or limitations hitherto undiscovered. 

It must at the same time be granted, that the probability of 
a hypothesis increases in proportion to the number of phenomena 
for which it accounts, and to the simplicity of the theory by which 
it explains them;—and that, in some instances, this probability 
may amount to a moral certainty. The most remarkable example 
of this which occurs in the history of science is undoubtedly the 
Copernican system. I before observed, that at the period when it 
was first proposed, it was nothing more than a hypothesis; and 
that its only proof rested on its conformity, in point of simplicity, 
to the general economy of the universe. “ When Copernicus,” 
says Mr. Maclaurin, “ considered the form, disposition, and motions 
of the system, as they were then represented after Ptolemy, he 
found the whole void of order, symmetry, and proportion; like a 
piece,” as he expresses himself, “ made up of parts copied from 
different originals, which, not fitting each other, should rather repre¬ 
sent a monster than a man. He therefore perused the writings of 
the ancient philosophers, to see whether any more rational account 
had ever been proposed of the motions of the heavens. The first 
hint he had was from Cicero, who tells us, in his Academical 
Questions, that Nicetas, a Syracusan, had taught that the earth 
turns round on its axis, which made the whole heavens appear to 
a spectator on the earth to turn round it daily. Afterwards, from 
Plutarch, he found that Philolaus, the Pythagorean, had taught 
that the earth moved annually round the sun. He immediately 
perceived that, by allowing these two motions, all the perplexity, 
disorder, and confusion he had complained of in the celestial motions 
vanished; and that, instead of these, a simple, regular disposition 
of the orbits, and a harmony of the motions appeared, worthy of 
the great Author of the world.”f 

* “ Meu may rest assured that the sound and true art of inventing advances towards 
maturity, and grows with the inventions themselves.” 

f Account of Newton’s Philosophical Discoveries, p. 45, 2nd edit.—This presumptive 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


509 

Of the truth of this hypothesis, the discoveries of the last cen¬ 
tury have afforded many new proofs of a direct and even demon- 
trative nature; and yet, it may be fairly questioned whether to 
Copernicus and Galileo the analogical reasoning stated in the pre¬ 
ceding quotation did not, of itself, appear so conclusive as to 
supersede the necessity of any farther evidence. The ecclesiastical 
persecutions which the latter encountered in defence of his sup¬ 
posed heresy, sufficiently evinces the faith which he reposed in his 
astronomical creed. 

It is, however, extremely worthy of remark, with respect to the 
Copernican system, that it affords no illustration whatever of the 
justness of Hartley’s logical maxim. The Ptolemaic system was 
not demonstrably inconsistent with any phenomena known in the 
sixteenth century; and, consequently, the presumption for the new 
hypothesis did not arise from its exclusive coincidence with the 
facts, but from the simplicity and beauty which it possessed as a 
theory. The inference to be deduced from it is, therefore, not 
in favour of hypotheses in general, but of hypotheses sanctioned by 
analogy. 

The fortunate hypothesis of a ring encircling the body of Saturn, 
by which Huygens accounted, in a manner equally simple and satis¬ 
factory, for a set of appearances which for forty years had puzzled 
all the astronomers of Europe, bears, in all its circumstances, a 
closer resemblance than any other instance I know of, to the key 
of a cipher. Of its truth it is impossible for the most sceptical mind 
to entertain any doubt, when it is considered that it not only 
enabled Huygens to explain all the known phenomena, but to pre¬ 
dict those which were afterwards to be observed. This instance, 
accordingly, has had much stress laid upon it by different writers, 
particularly by Gravesande and Le Sage. # I must own, I am 
somewhat doubtful if the discovery of a key to so limited and 
insulated a class of optical facts, authorises any valid argument for 
the employment of mere hypotheses, to decipher the complicated 
phenomena resulting from the general laws of nature. It is, indeed, 
an example most ingeniously and happily selected ; but would not 
perhaps have been so often resorted to if it had been easy to find 
others of a similar description. 

( 2 .) The chief objection, however, to Hartley’s comparison of the 
theorist to the decipherer is, that there are few, if any, physical 

argument, as it presented itself to the mind of Copernicus, is thus stated by Bailly. 
« Les hommes sentent que la nature est simple ; les stations et les retrogradations des 
planetes offroient des apparences bizarres ; le principe, qui les ramenoit a une marche 
simple, et naturelle, ne pouvoit etre qu’une v£rite.” [Men perceive that nature is 
simple ; the stationary and retrograde appearances of the heavens presented the 
most incongruous form ; the principle which reduced them to a simple and natural 
course could not but be true.]—Hist, de l’Astron. Mod. tom. i. p. 351. 

* Gravesande, Introd. ad Philosoph. [Introduction to Philosophy] secs. 9/9, 945. 
.—Opuscules de Le Sage [Essays of Le Sage], published by M. Prevost. Premier 
Memoire, sec. 25. The latter writer mentions the theory in question, as a hypothesis 
which received no countenance whatever from the analogy of any preceding astrono¬ 
mical discovery. 


510 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


hypotheses which afford the only way of explaining the phenomena 
to which they are applied; and therefore, admitting them to be 
perfectly consistent with all the known facts, they leave us in the 
same state of uncertainty in which the decipherer would find him¬ 
self if he should discover a variety of keys to the same cipher. 
Des Cartes acknowledges that the same effect might, upon the prin¬ 
ciples of his philosophy, admit of manifold explanations ; and that 
nothing perplexed him more than to know which he ought to adopt, 
in preference to the others. “ The powers of nature,” says he, “ I 
must confess, are so ample, that no sooner do I observe any parti¬ 
cular effect, than I immediately perceive that it may be deduced 
from my principles, in a variety of different ways; and nothing, in 
general, appears to me more difficult than to ascertain by which of 
these processes it is really produced.”* The same remark may,with 
a very few exceptions, be extended to every hypothetical theory 
which is unsupported by any collateral probabilities arising from 
experience or analogy ; and it sufficiently shows how infinitely 
inferior such theories are, in point of evidence, to the conclusions 
obtained by the art of the decipherer. The principles, indeed, on 
which this last art proceeds, may be safely pronounced to be nearly 
infallible. 

In these strictures upon Hartley, I have endeavoured to do as 
much justice as possible to his general argument, by keeping 
entirely out of sight the particular purpose which it was intended 
to serve. By confining too much his attention to this, Dr. Reid 
has been led to carry, farther than was necessary or reasonable, an 
indiscriminate zeal against every speculation to which the epithet 
hypothetical can in any degree be applied. He has been also led 
to overlook the essential distinction between hypothetical inferences 
from one department of the material world to another, and hypo¬ 
thetical inferences from the material world to the intellectual. It 
was with the view of apologising for inferences of the latter descrip¬ 
tion that Hartley advanced the logical principle which gave occa¬ 
sion to the foregoing discussion; and therefore, I apprehend, the 
proper answer to his argument is this : granting your principle to 
be true in all its extent, it furnishes no apology whatever for the 
theory of vibrations. If the science of mind admit of any illustra¬ 
tion from the aid of hypotheses, it must be from such hypotheses 
alone as are consonant to the analogy of its own laws. To assume 
as a fact the existence of analogies between these laws and those 

* Dissertatio de Methodo [Treatise on Method]. In the sentence immediately fol¬ 
lowing, Des Cartes mentions the general rule which he followed, when such an embar¬ 
rassment occurred. “ Hinc aliter me extricare non possum, quam si rursus aliqua 
experimenta quseram ; quee talia sint, ut eorum idem non sit futurus eventus, si hoc 
modo quam si illo explicetur.” [I cannot otherwise free myself from the perplexity, 
than to devise anew experiments of such a nature, that the results should not be the 
same whether they be explained in the one way or the other.] The rule is excellent 
and it is only to be regretted that so few exemplifications of it are to be found in his 
writings. 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


511 

of matter, is to sanction that very prejudice which it is the great 
object of the inductive science of mind to eradicate. 

[I have repeatedly had occasion, in some of my former publica¬ 
tions, to observe, that the names of almost all our mental powers 
and operations are borrowed from sensible images . Of this number 
are intuition; the discursive faculty; attention; reflection; con¬ 
ception ; imagination ; apprehension ; comprehension ; abstraction ; 
invention ; capacity ; penetration; acuteness.] [The case is pre¬ 
cisely similar with the following terms and phrases, relative to a 
different class of mental phenomena; inclination; aversion ; deli¬ 
beration ; pondering; weighing the motives of our actions ; yield¬ 
ing to that motive which is the strongest;—expressions, it may be 
remarked in passing, which, when employed without a very care¬ 
ful analysis of their import, in the discussion concerning the liberty 
of the will, gratuitously prejudge the very point in dispute; and 
give the semblance of demonstration to what is, in fact, only a 
series of identical propositions, or a sophistical circle of words.] * 

That to the apprehensions of uneducated men such metaphorical 
or analogical expressions should present the images and the things 
typified, inseparably combined and blended together, is not won¬ 
derful ; but it is the business of the philosopher to conquer these 
casual associations, and, by varying his metaphors, when he can¬ 
not completely lay them aside, to accustom himself to view the 
phenomena of thought in that naked and undisguised state in 
which they unveil themselves to the powers of consciousness and 
reflection. To have recourse, therefore, to the analogies suggested 
by popular language, for the purpose of explaining the operations 
of the mind, instead of advancing knowledge, is to confirm and to 
extend the influence of vulgar errors. 

After having said so much in vindication of analogical conjec¬ 
tures as steps towards physical discoveries, I thought it right to 
caution my readers against supposing, that what I have stated 
admits of any application to analogical theories of the human mind. 
Upon this head, however, I must not enlarge farther at present. 
In treating of the inductive logic, I have studiously confined my 
illustrations to those branches of knowledge in which it has already 
been exemplified with indisputable success; avoiding, for obvious 
reasons, any reference to sciences in which its utility still remains 
to be ascertained. 

III. Supplemental Observations on the words Induction and Analogy , 
as used in Mathematics. —Before dismissing the subjects of induction 
and analogy, considered as methods of reasoning in physics, it 

* “ Nothing,” says Berkeley, “ seems more to have contributed towards engaging 
men in controversies and mistakes with regard to the nature and operations of the 
mind, than the being used to speak of those things in terms borrowed from sensible 
ideas. For example, the will is termed the motion of the soul. This infuses a belief, 
that the mind of man is as a ball in motion, impelled and determined by the objects of 
sense, as necessarily as that is by the stroke of a racket.”—Principles of Human 
Knowledge. 8vo. edit. 1843. 


PAUT II. 


CHAP. [X. 


f>12 


remains for me to take some slight notice of the use occasionally 
made of the same terms in pure mathematics. Although, in con¬ 
sequence of the very different natures of these sciences, the induc¬ 
tion and analogy of the one cannot fail to differ widely from the 
induction and analogy of the other, yet, from the general history 
of language, it may be safely presumed that this application to 
both of a common phraseology has been suggested by certain sup¬ 
posed points of coincidence between the two cases thus brought 
into immediate comparison.* 

It has been hitherto, with a very few, if any, exceptions, the 
universal doctrine of modern as well as of ancient logicians, that 
“ no mathematical proposition can be proved by induction.” To 
this opinion Dr. Reid has given his sanction in the strongest terms; 
observing, that “ though it should be found, by experience, in a 
thousand cases, that the area of a plane triangle is equal to the 
rectangle under the base and half the altitude, this would not prove 
that it must be so in all cases, and cannot be otherwise, which is 
what the mathematician affirms.” — Intell. Powers, Essay VI. 
Chap. VI. § ix. p. 446. edit. 1843. 

That some limitation of this general assertion is necessary, 
appears plainly from the well-known fact, that induction is a species 
of evidence on which the most scrupulous reasoners are accustomed, 
in their mathematical inquiries, to rely with implicit confidence; 
and which, although it may not of itself demonstrate that the theo¬ 
rems derived from it are necessarily true, is yet abundantly suffi¬ 
cient to satisfy any reasonable mind that they hold universally. 
It was by induction, for example, that Newton discovered the 
algebraical formula by which we are enabled to determine any 
power whatever, raised from a binomial root, without performing 
the progressive multiplications. The formula expresses a relation 
between the exponents and the co-efficients of the different terms, 
which is found to hold in all cases, as far as the table of powers is 
carried by actual calculation ;—from which Newton inferred, that 
if this table were to be continued in infinitum , the same formula 
would correspond equally with every successive power. There is 
no reason to suppose that he ever attempted to prove the theorem 
in any other way; and yet there cannot be a doubt that he was as 
firmly satisfied of its being universally true, as'if he had examined 
all the different demonstrations of it which have since been given.f 


* I have already observed (see page 462) that mathematicians frequently avail them¬ 
selves of that sort of induction which Bacon describes “ as proceeding by simple enu¬ 
meration.” The induction of which I am now to treat has very little in common 
with the other, and bears a much closer resemblance to that recommended in the 
Novum Organon. 

t “ The truth of this theorem was long known only by trial in particular cases, and 
by induction from analogy ; nor does it appear that even Newton himself ever attempted 
any direct proof of it.”—(Hutton’s Mathematical Dictionary, art Binomial Theorem.) 
For some interesting information with respect to the history of this discovery, see the 
very learned Introduction prefixed by Dr. Hutton to his edition of Sherwin’s Mathe- 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


513 

Numberless other illustrations of the same thing might be bor¬ 
rowed, both from arithmetic and geometry.* 

Into what principles, it may be asked, is the validity of such a 
proof in mathematics ultimately resolvable ?—To me it appears to 
take for granted certain general logical maxims; and to imply a 
secret process of legitimate and conclusive reasoning, though not 
conducted agreeably to the rules of mathematical demonstration, 
nor perhaps formally expressed in words. Thus, in the 

instance mentioned by Dr. Reid, I shall suppose, that I have first 
ascertained experimentally the truth of the proposition in the case 
of an equilateral triangle ; and that I afterwards find it to hold in 
all the other kinds of triangles, whether isosceles or scalene, right- 
angled, obtuse-angled, or acute-angled. It is impossible for me 
not to perceive, that this property, having no connexion with any 
of the particular circumstances which discriminate different triangles 
from each other, must arise from something common to all triangles, 

matical Tables ; and the second volume (p. 165) of the Scriptores Logarithmici, edited 
by Mr. Baron Maseres. 

* In the Aritlimetica Infinitorum [The Arithmetic of Infinites] of Dr. Wallis, con¬ 
siderable use is made of the method of induction. “ A l’aide d’une induction habile- 
ment menagee,” says Montucla, “ et du fil de l’analogie, dont il s£ut toujours s’aider 
avec succes, il soumit a la geometrie une multitude d’objets qui lui avoient echappe 
jusqu’alors.”—(Hist, des Mathem. tome ii. p. 299.) [By the aid of induction dex¬ 
terously conducted, and of analogy, which he knew always to employ successfully, he 
brought within the province of geometry a multitude of objects which had hitherto 
been excluded from it.—History of Mathematics.] This innovation in the established 
forms of mathematical reasoning gave offence to some of his contemporaries ; in par¬ 
ticular, to M. de Fermat, one of the most distinguished geometers of the seventeenth 
century. The ground of his objection, however, it is worthy of notice, was not any 
doubt of the conclusions obtained by Wallis ; but because he thought that their truth 
might have been established by a more legitimate and elegant process. “ Sa fa 9 on 
de d£mont.rer, qui est fondee sur induction plutdt que sur un raisonnement a la mode 
d’Archim^de, fera quelque peine aux novices, qui veulent des syllogismes demonstra- 
tifs depuis le commencement jusqu’a la fin. Ce n’est pas que je ne l’approuve, mais 
toutes ses propositions pouvant etre demontrees via ordinaria, legitima, et Archimedcea , 
en beaucoup moins de paroles, que n’en contient son livre, je ne s^ai pas pourquoi il 
a prefere cette manith’e k l’ancienne, qui est plus convainquante et plus elegante, ainsi 
que j’espere lui faire voir k mon premier loisir.” Lettre de M. de Fermat a M. le 
Chev. Kenelme Digby.—(See Fermat’s Vai*ia Opera Mathematica, p. 191.) [His 
mode of demonstration, which is founded on induction rather than on reasoning, in the 
style of Archimedes, will cause some difficulty to those unaccustomed to it, and who 
require a train of demonstrative syllogisms from the beginning to the end. Not that 
I would reject what he has done, but as all his propositions can be demonstrated by the 
common legitimate Archimedean method, and in fewer words than he uses, I know 
not why he prefers it to the ancient, which is more convincing and elegant, as I hope 
to convince him as soon as I have leisure.—Letter of M. Fermat to Sir Kenelm 
Digby.—Fermat’s Miscellaneous Mathematical Works.] For Wallis’s reply to these 
strictures, see his Algebra, cap. lxxix. ; and his Commercium Epistolicum [Epistolary 
Correspondence]. 

In the Opuscules of M. Le Sage, I find the following sentence quoted from a work of 
La Place, which I have not had an opportunity of seeing. The judgment of so great a 
master, on a logical question l’elative to his own studies, is of peculiar value. “La 
methode d’induction, quoique excellente pour decouvrir des verites generates, ne doit 
pas dispenser de les demontrer avec rigueur.”—Le£ons donnees aux Ecoles Noi'males, 
pi’em. vol. p. 380. [The inductive method, though excellent for discovering general 
truths, should not exempt us from rigorously demonstrating them.—Lectures given at 
the Normal Schools, 1st vol.] 


L L 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


514 


and must therefore he a universal property of that figure. In like 
manner, in the binomial theorem, if the formula correspond with 
the table of powers in a variety of particular instances, (which 
instances agree in no other respect but in being powers raised from 
the same binomial root,) we must conclude—and I apprehend that 
our conclusion is perfectly warranted by the soundest logic—that 
it is this common property which renders the theorem true in all 
these cases, and consequently, that it must necessarily hold in every 
other. Whether, on the supposition that we had never had any 
previous experience of demonstrative evidence, we should have 
been led, by the mere inductive process, to form the idea of neces¬ 
sary truth, may perhaps be questioned ; but the slightest acquaint¬ 
ance with mathematics is sufficient to produce the most complete 
conviction, that whatever is universally true in that science must be 
true of necessity; and, therefore, that a universal, and a necessary 
truth, are, in the language of mathematicians, synonymous expres¬ 
sions. If this view of the matter be just, the evidence afforded by 
mathematical induction must be allowed to differ radically from that 
of physical: the latter resolving ultimately into our instinctive 
expectation of the laws of nature, and consequently, never amount¬ 
ing to that demonstrative certainty which excludes the possibility 
of anomalous exceptions. 

I have been led into this train of thinking by a remark which La 
Place appears to me to have stated in terms much too unqualified: 
—“ Que la marche de Newton, dans la decouverte de la gravitation 
universelle, a ete exactement la meme que dans celle de la formule 
du binome.” * When it is recollected that, in the one case, New¬ 
ton’s conclusion related to a contingent, an<J in the other to a 
necessary truth, it seems difficult to conceive how the logical 
procedure which conducted him to both should have been exactly 
the same. In one of his queries, he has, in perfect conformity to 
the principles of Bacon’s logic, admitted the possibility, that “ God 
may vary the laws of nature, and make worlds of several sorts, in 
several parts of the universe.” “ At least,” he adds, “ I see 
nothing of contradiction in all this.” (Query 31.) Would Newton 
have expressed himself with equal scepticism concerning the 
universality of his binomial theorem; or admitted the possibility of a 
single exception to it, in the indefinite progress of actual involution ? 
In short, did there exist the slightest shade of difference between 
the degree of his assent to this inductive result, and that extorted 
from him by a demonstration of Euclid ? 

Although, therefore, the mathematician, as well as the natural 
philosopher, may, without any blameable latitude of expression, 
be said to reason by induction, when he draws an inference from 
the known to the unknown, yet it seems indisputable, that in all 
such cases, he rests his conclusions on grounds essentially distinct 
from those which form the basis of experimental science. 


* “ Newton’s process in the discovery of universal gravitation was exactly the same 
as in that of the binomial formula.” 


OF THE INDUCTIVE LOGIC. 


515 

The word analogy, too, as well as induction, is common to 
physics, and to pure mathematics. It is thus we speak of the 
analogy running through the general properties <ff the different 
conic sections, with no less propriety than of the analogy running 
through the anatomical structure of different tribes of animals. In 
some instances, these mathematical analogies are collected by a 
species of induction; in others, they are inferred as consequences 
from more general truths, in which they are included as particular 
cases. Thus, in the curves which have just been mentioned, while 
we content ourselves, as many elementary writers have done,* with 
deducing their properties from mechanical descriptions on a plane, 
we rise experimentally from a comparison of the propositions which 
have been separately demonstrated with respect to each curve, to 
more comprehensive theorems, applicable to all of them; whereas, 
when we begin with considering them in their common origin, we 
have it in our power to trace from the source, both their generic 
properties, and their specific peculiarities. The satisfaction arising 
from this last view of the subject can be conceived by those alone 
who have experienced it; although I am somewhat doubtful 
whether it be not felt in the greatest degree by such as, after 
having risen from the contemplation of particular truths to other 
truths more general, have been at last conducted to some command¬ 
ing station, where the mutual connexions and affinities of the whole 
system are brought, at once, under the range of the eye. Even, 
however, before we have reached this vantage-ground, the contem¬ 
plation of the analogy, considered merely as a fact, is pleasing to 
the mind; partly from the mysterious wonder it excites, and 
partly from the convenient generalization of knowledge it affords. 
To the experienced mathematician this pleasure is farther enhanced, 
by the assurance which the analogy conveys, of the existence of 
yet undiscovered theorems, far more extensive and luminous than 
those which have led him, by a process so indirect, so tedious, ‘ 
and comparatively so unsatisfactory, to his general conclusions. 

In this last respect, the pleasure derived from analogy in mathe¬ 
matics, resolves into the same principle with that which seems to 
have the chief share in rendering the analogies among the different 
departments of nature so interesting a subject of speculation. In 
both cases, a powerful and agreeable stimulus is applied to the 
curiosity, by the encouragement given to the exercise of the 
inventive faculties, and by the hope of future discovery, which is 
awakened and cherished. As the analogous properties, for instance, 
of the conic sections, point to some general theorems, of which 
they are corollaries; so the analogy between' the phenomena of 
electricity and those of galvanism irresistibly suggests a confident, 
though vague, anticipation of some general physical law compre¬ 
hending the phenomena of both, but differently modified in its 
sensible results by a diversity of circumstances. (See note u u.) 

* L’Hospital, Simson, &c. 

L L 2 


516 


PART II. 


CHAP. IX. 


Indeed, it is by no means impossible, that tbe pleasure we receive 
even from those analogies which are the foundation of poetical 
metaphor and simile, may be found resolvable, in part, into the 
satisfaction connected with the supposed discovery of truth, or the 
supposed acquisition of knowledge ; the faculty of imagination 
giving to these illusions a momentary ascendant over the sober 
conclusions of experience; and gratifying the understanding with 
a flattering consciousness of its own force, or at least with a con¬ 
solatory forgetfulness of its own weakness. 


CHAPTER X. 

OF CERTAIN MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND 
INDUCTION, IN THE PHRASEOLOGY OF MODERN SCIENCE. ILLUS¬ 
TRATIONS FROM MEDICINE AND FROM POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

In the first section of the viith chapter, I endeavoured to point 
out the characteristical peculiarities by which the inductive philo¬ 
sophy of the Newtonians is distingished from the hypothetical 
systems of their predecessors; and which entitle us to indulge 
hopes with respect to the permanent stability of their doctrines, 
which might be regarded as chimerical, if, in anticipating the future 
history of science, we were to be guided merely by the analogy of 
its revolutions in the ages that are past. 

In order, however, to do complete justice to this argument, as 
well as to prevent an undue extension of the foregoing conclusions, 
it is necessary to guard the reader against a vague application of the 
appropriate terms of inductive science to inquiries which have not 
been rigorously conducted according to the rules of the inductive 
logic. From a want of attention to this consideration, there is a 
danger, on the one hand, of lending to sophistry or to ignorance the 
authority of those illustrious names whose steps they profess to 
follow; and, on the other, of bringing discredit on that method of 
investigation, of which the language and other technical arrange¬ 
ments have been thus, perverted. 

Among the distinguishing features of the new logic, when con¬ 
sidered in contrast with that of the schoolmen, the most prominent 
is the regard which it professes to pay to experience, as the only 
solid foundation of human knowledge. It may be worth while, 
therefore, to consider how far the notion commonly annexed to this 
word is definite and precise : and whether there may not sometimes 
be a possibility of its being employed in a sense more general and 
loose than the authors who are looked up to as the great models of 
inductive investigation understood it to convey * 

* As the reflections which follow are entirely of a practical nature, I shall express 
myself, as far as is consistent with a due regard to precision, agreeably to the modes 
of speaking in common use ; without affecting a scrupulous attention to some specula- 



MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUCTION. 5l7 

In the course of the abstract speculations contained in the pre¬ 
ceding sectional have remarked, that although the difference between 
the two sorts of evidence, which are commonly referred to the sepa¬ 
rate heads of experience and of analogy, be rather a difference in 
degree than in kind, yet that it is useful to keep these terms in 
view, in order to mark the contrast between cases which are sepa¬ 
rated from each other by a very wide and palpable interval;— 
more especially to mark the difference between an argument from 
individual to individual of the same species, and an argument from 
species to species of the same genus. As this distinction, however, 
when accyrately examined, turns out to be of a more vague and 
popular nature than at first sight appears, it is not surprising that 
instances should occasionally present themselves, in which it is dif¬ 
ficult to say, of the evidence before us, to which of these descrip¬ 
tions it ought to be referred. Nor does this doubt lead merely to 
a question concerning phraseology: it produces a hesitation which 
must have some effect even on the judgment of a philosopher; the 
maxims to which we have been accustomed, in the course of our 
early studies, leading us to magnify the evidence of experience as 
the sole test of truth; and to depreciate that of analogy, as one of 
the most fertile sources of error. As these maxims proceed on 
the supposition that the respective provinces of both are very pre¬ 
cisely defined, it is evident that, admitting them to be perfectly 


tive distinctions, which, however curious and interesting, when considered in connexion 
with the theory of the mind, do not lead to any logical conclusions of essential import¬ 
ance in the conduct of the understanding. In such sciences, for example, as astronomy, 
natural philosophy, and chemistry, which rest upon phenomena open to the scrutiny of 
every inquirer, it would obviously be puerile in the extreme to attempt drawing the 
line between facts which have been ascertained by our own personal observation, and 
those which we have implicitly adopted upon our faith in the universal consent of the 
scientific world. The evidence, in both cases, may be equally irresistible ; and some¬ 
times the most cautious reasoners may justly be disposed to consider that of testimony 
as the least fallible of the two. 

By far the greater part, indeed, of what is commonly called experimental knowledge, 
will be found, when traced to its origin, to resolve entirely into our confidence in the 
judgment and the veracity of our fellow creatures ; nor, in the sciences already men¬ 
tioned, has this identification of the evidence of testimony with that of experience, the 
slightest tendency to affect the legitimacy of our inductive conclusions. 

In some other branches of knowledge, (more particularly in those political doctrines 
which assume as incontrovertible data the details of ancient history,) the authority of 
testimony is, for obvious reasons, much more questionable ; and to dignify it, iu these 
with the imposing character of experience, is to strengthen one of the chief bulwarks 
of popular prejudices. This view of the subject, however, although well entitled to the 
attention of the logician, has no immediate connexion with my present argument; and 
accordingly I shall make no scruple, in the sequel, to comprehend, under the name of 
experience, the grounds of our assent to all the facts on which our reasonings proceed, 
provided only that the certainty of these facts be, on either supposition, equally in¬ 
disputable. 

The logical errors which it is the aim of this section to correct, turn upon a still 
more dangerous latitude in the use of this word : in consequence of which, the autho¬ 
rity of experience comes insensibly to be extended to innumerable opinions resting 
solely on supposed analogies; while, not unfrequently, the language of Bacon is quoted 
in bar of any theoretical argument on the other side of the question. 

I have added this note, partly to obviate some criticisms to which my own phraseo¬ 
logy may, at first sight, appear liable ; and partly to point out the connexion between 
the following discussion and some of the foregoing speculations. 


PART II. 


CHAP. X. 


518 


just in themselves, much danger may still be conceivable from their 
injudicious application. I shall endeavour to illustrate this remark 
by some familiar instances; which, I trust, will be sufficient to 
recommend it to the farther consideration of future logicians. To 
treat of the subject with that minuteness of detail which is suited 
to its importance, is incompatible with the subordinate place which 
belongs to it in my general design. 

It is observed by Dr. Reid, that, “ in medicine, physicians must, 
for the most part, be directed in their prescription's by analogy. 
The constitution of one human body is so like to that of another, 
that it is reasonable to think, that what is the cause of health or 
sickness to one, may have the same effect on another. And this,” 
he adds, “ is generally found true, though not without some excep¬ 
tions.”—(Intellect. Powers, Essay I. Chap. IY. §. m. edit. 1843.) 

I am doubtful if this observation be justified by the common 
use of language; which, as far as I am able to judge, uniformly 
refers the evidence on which a cautious physician proceeds, not to 
analogy, but to experience. The German monk, who, according 
to the popular tradition, having observed the salutary effects of 
antimony upon some of the lower animals, ventured to prescribe 
the use of it to his own fraternity, might be justly said to reason 
analogically; inasmuch as his experience related to one species, 
and his inference to another. But if, after having thus poisoned 
all the monks of his own convent, he had persevered in recom¬ 
mending the same mineral to the monks of another, the example 
of our most correct writers would have authorised us to say, (how 
far justly is a different question,) that he proceeded in direct oppo¬ 
sition to the evidence of experience. 

In offering this slight criticism on Dr. Reid, I would be very far 
from being understood to say, that the common phraseology is 
more unexceptionable than his. I would only remark, that his 
phraseology on this occasion is almost peculiar to himself: and 
that the prevailing opinions, both of philosophers and of the mul¬ 
titude, incline them to rank the grounds of our reasoning in the 
medical art, at a much higher point in the scale of evidence than 
what is marked by the word analogy. Indeed, I should be glad to 
know if there be any one branch of human knowledge, in which 
men are, in general, more disposed to boast of the lights of expe¬ 
rience than in the practice of medicine. 

It would, perhaps, have been better for the world if the general 
habits of thinking and of speaking had, in this instance, been more 
agreeable than they seem to be in fact, to Dr. Reid’s ideas ; or, at 
least, if some qualifying epithet had been invariably added to the word 
experience, to show with how very great latitude it is to be under¬ 
stood, when applied to the evidence on which the physician proceeds 
in the exercise of his art. The truth is, that, even on the most 
favourable supposition, this evidence, so far as it rests on experience, 
is weakened or destroyed by the uncertain conditions of every new 
case to which his former results are to be applied; and that, with 


MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUCTION. 519 

out a peculiar sagacity and discrimination in marking, not only the 
resembling, but the characteristical features of disorders, classed 
under the same technical name, his practice cannot, with propriety, 
be said to be guided by any one rational principle of decision, but 
merely by blind and random conjecture. The more successfully 
this sagacity and discrimination are exercised, the more nearly does 
the evidence of medical practice approach to that of experience; 
but, in every instance, without exception, so immense is the 
distance between them, as to render the meaning of the word 
experience, when applied to medicine, essentially different from its 
import in those sciences where it is possible for us, in all cases, by 
due attention to the circumstances of an experiment, to predict its 
result with an almost infallible certainty.* 

[Notwithstanding this very obvious consideration, it has become 
fashionable among a certain class of medical practitioners, since the 
lustre thrown on the inductive logic of Bacon by the discoveries of 
Newton and the researches of Boyle, to number their art with the 
other branches of experimental philosophy ; and to speak of the dif¬ 
ference between the empiric and the scientific physician , as if it were 
exactly analogous to that between the cautious experimenter and 
the hypothetical theorist in physics.] Experience, we are told, and 
experience alone, must be our guide in medicine, as in all the other 
departments of physical knowledge: nor is any innovation, how¬ 
ever rational, proposed in the established routine of practice, but 
an accumulation of alleged cases is immediately brought forward, 
as an experimental proof of the dangers which it threatens. 

* “ L’art de conjecture? en medecine ne sauroit consister dans une suite de raison- 
nemens appuyds sur un vain systfime. C’est uniquement l’art de comparer une mala- 
die qu’on doit guerir,. avec les maladies semblables qu’on a deja connues par son ex¬ 
perience ou par celle des autres. Cet art consiste meme quelquefois a appercevoir 
un rapport entre des maladies qui paroissent n’en point avoir, comme aussi des diffe¬ 
rences essentielles, quoique fugitives, entre celles qui paroissent se ressembler le plus. 
Plus on aura rassemble de faits, plus on sera en etat de conjecturer heureusement; 
suppose neanmoins qu’on ait d’ailleurs cette justesse d’esprit que la nature seule peut 
donner. 

“ Ainsi le meilleur medecin n’est pas (comme le prejuge le suppose) celui qui accu- 
mule en aveugle et en courant beaucoup de pratique, mais celui qui ne fait que des 
observations bien approfondies, et qui joint a ces observations le nombre beaucoup plus 
grand des observations faites dans tous les stecles par des hommes animes du meme 
esprit que lui. Ces observations sont la ve'ritable experience du medecin.”—D’Alem¬ 
bert, Eclaircissemens sur les Elemens de Philosophie, sec. vi. [Skill in conjecturing in 
medical treatment should not consist in a train of reasoning founded on a vain system. 
It is merely skill in comparing the disease under treatment with similar diseases which 
have already come under one’s own experience, or that of others. Such skill some¬ 
times consists in observing relations between diseases which appear to have none, as 
well as essential differences, although transitory, between diseases which seem to have 
the closest mutual resemblance. The more facts we shall collect, the better prepared 
shall we be for conjecturing successfully : it being besides taken for granted that there 
is that soundness of intellect which only nature can confer. Hence the best physician 
is not he who in extensive practice accumulates facts indiscriminately, but he who 
observes with penetration, and joins to his own observations the greatest number of 
those which have in all ages been made by men influenced by a spirit similar to ms 
own. Such observations constitute real medical experience. Illustrations ot e 
Elements of Philosophy. ] 


520 


PART II. 


CHAP. X. 


It was a frequent and favourite remark of the- late Dr. Cullen, 
that there are more false facts current in the world than false.theo- 
ries ; and a similar observation occurs, more than once, in the 
Novum Organon. “ Men of learning,” says Bacon, in one passage, 
“ are too often led, from indolence or credulity, to avail themselves 
of mere rumours or whispers of experience, as confirmations, and 
sometimes as the very groundwork of their philosophy; ascribing 
to them the same authority as if they rested on legitimate testi¬ 
mony. Like to a government which should regulate its measures, 
not by the official information received from its own accredited 
ambassadors, but by the gossipings of newsmongers in the streets. 
Such, in truth, is the manner in which the interests of philosophy, 
as far as experience is concerned, have been hitherto administered. 
Nothing is to be found which has been duly investigated; nothing 
which has been verified by a careful examination of proofs; nothing 
which has been reduced to the standard of number, weight, or 
measure.”—(Nov. Org. lib. i. Aph. xcviii.) 

This very important aphorism deserves the serious attention of 
those who, while they are perpetually declaiming against the uncer¬ 
tainty and fallacy of systems, are themselves employed in amassing 
a chaos of insulated particulars, which they admit upon the slender¬ 
est evidence. Such men, sensible of their own incapacity for 
scientific investigation, have often a malicious pleasure in destroy¬ 
ing the fabrics of their predecessors; or, if they should be actuated 
by less unworthy motives, they may. yet feel a certain gratifica¬ 
tion to their vanity, in astonishing the world with anomalous 
and unlooked-for phenomena; a weakness which results not less 
naturally from ignorance and folly, than a bias to premature gener¬ 
alization from the consciousness of genius. Both of these weaknesses 
are undoubtedly adverse to the progress of science ; but in the 
actual state of human knowledge, the former is perhaps the more 
dangerous of the two. 

In the practice of medicine (to which topic I wish to confine 
myself more particularly at present) there are a variety of other 
circumstances, which, abstracting from any suspicion of bad faith in 
those on whose testimony the credibility of facts depends, have a 
tendency to vitiate the most candid accounts of what is commonly 
dignified with the title of experience. So deeply rooted in the 
constitution of the mind is that disposition on which philosophy is 
grafted, that the simplest narrative of the most illiterate observer 
involves more or less of hypothesis; nay, in general, it will be 
found, that in proportion to his ignorance, the greater is the number 
of conjectural principles involved in his statements. 

A village apothecary (and, if possible, in a still greater degree, 
an experienced nurse) is seldom able to describe the plainest case, 
without employing a phraseology of which every word is a theory ; 
whereas a simple and genuine specification of the phenomena which 
mark a particular disease ; a specification unsophisticated by fancy. 


MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUCTION. 521 

or by preconceived opinions, may be regarded as unequivocal 
evidence of a mind trained by long and successful study to the 
most difficult of all arts, that of the faithful interpretation of nature. 

Independently, however, of all these circumstances, which tend 
so powerfully to vitiate the data whence the physician has to 
reason ; and supposing his assumed facts to be stated, not only with 
the most scrupulous regard to truth, but with the most jealous 
exclusion of theoretical expressions, still the evidence upon which 
he proceeds is, at best, conjectural and dubious, when compared 
with what is required in chemistry or in mechanics. It is seldom, if 
ever, possible; that the description of any medical case can include 
all the circumstances with which the result was connected; and, 
therefore, how true soever the facts described may be, yet, when 
the conclusion to which they lead comes to be applied as a general 
rule in practice, it is not only a rule rashly drawn from one single 
experiment, but a rule transferred from a case imperfectly known, 
to another of which we are equally ignorant. Here, too, it will be 
found, that the evidence of experience is incomparably less in 
favour of the empiric, than of the cautious theorist; or rather, that 
it is by cautious theory alone, that experience can be rendered of 
any value. Nothing, indeed, can be more absurd than to contrast, 
as is commonly done, experience with theory, as if they stood in 
opposition to each other. Without theory, (or, in other words, 
without general principles, inferred from a sagacious comparison of 
a variety of phenomena,) experience is a blind and useless guide ; 
while, on the other hand, a legitimate theory, (and the same obser¬ 
vation may be extended to hypothetical theories, supported by 
numerous analogies,) necessarily presupposes a knowledge of con¬ 
nected and well-ascertained facts, more comprehensive, by far, than 
any mere empiric 4s likely to possess. When a scientific practi¬ 
tioner, accordingly, quits the empirical routine of his profession, 
in quest of a higher and more commanding ground, he does not 
proceed on the supposition that it is possible to supersede the neces¬ 
sity of experience by the most accurate reasonings a priori; but, 
distrusting conclusions which rest on the observation of this or that 
individual, he is anxious, by combining those of an immense multi¬ 
tude, to separate accidental conjunctions from established con¬ 
nexions, and to ascertain those laws of the human frame which rest 
on the universal experience of mankind. The idea of following 
nature in the treatment of diseases ; an idea which, I believe, pre¬ 
vails more and more in the practice of every physician, in propor¬ 
tion as his views are enlarged by science, is founded, not on 
hypothesis, but on one of the most general laws yet known with 
respect to the animal economy; and it implies an acknowledgment, 
not only of the vanity of abstract theories, but of the limited 
province of human art.* 

* “ Gaudet corpus vi prorsus mirabili, qua contra morbos se tueatur; multos 


522 


PART II. 


CHAP. X- 


These slight remarks are sufficient to show how vague and 
indeterminate the notion is, which is commonly annexed to the 
word experience by the most zealous advocates for its paramount 
authority in medicine. They seem farther to show, that the ques¬ 
tion between them and their adversaries amounts to little more 
than a dispute about the comparative advantages of an experience 
guided by penetration and judgment, or of an experience which is 
to supersede all exercise of our rational faculties ; of an experience 
accurate, various, and discriminating, or of one which is gross and 
undistinguishing, like the perceptions of the lower animals. 

Another department of knowledge in which constant appeals are 
made to experience, is the science of politics ; and, in this science 
also, I apprehend, as well as in the former, that word is used 
with a far greater degree of latitude than is generally suspected. 
Indeed, most of the remarks which have been already offered on 
the one subject may be extended (mutatis mutandis) to the other. 
I shall confine my attention, therefore, in what follows, to one or 
two peculiarities by which politics is specifically and exclusively 
characterized as an object of study ; and which seem to remove the 
species of evidence it admits of, to a still greater distance than that 
of medicine itself, from what the word experience naturally suggests 
to a careless inquirer. 

The science of politics may be divided into two parts; the first 
having for its object the theory of government; the second, the 
general principles of legislation. That I may not lose myself in 
too wide a field, I shall, on the present occasion, waive all consi¬ 
deration of the former; and, for the sake of still greater precision, 
shall restrict my remarks to those branches of the latter which are 
comprehended under the general title of Political Economy; a 
phrase, however, which I wish to be here understood in its most 
extensive meaning.—(See note x x.) 

[They who have turned their attention, during the last century, 
to inquiries connected with population, national wealth, and other 
collateral subjects, may be divided into two classes; to the one of 

arceat; multos jam inchoatos quam optime et citissime solvat : aliosque suo modo, ad 
felicem exitum lentius perducat. 

w Hsec, autocrateia, vis naturae medicatrix, vocatur ; medicis, philosophis, notis- 
sima,et jure celeberrima. Hsec sola ad multos morbos sanandos sufficit, in omnibus 
fere prodest: Quin et medicamenta sua natura optima, tantum solummodo prosunt, 
quantum hujus vires insitas excitent, dirigant, gubernent. Medicina enim nequeagit 
in cadaver, neque repugnante natura aliquid proficit.”—Conspectus Medicinse Theo- 
reticse, auctore Jacobo Gregory, M.D., secs. 59, 60. (Edin. 1782.) [The human 
frame possesses a wondrous energy, by which it protects itself from disease, repels 
several, and in the most effectual and speedy manner cures those which have set in, 
and more gradually brings others to a favourable conclusion by a process of its own. 
This innate energy is called the sanatory power of nature, so greatly and justly cele¬ 
brated by physicians and philosophers. This is by itself sufficient to cure many dis¬ 
eases, and useful in all; and still farther, the remedies in their own nature best, are 
efficacious merely in proportion as they stimulate, speed, and guide this innate power. 
For medicine has no effect on a dead body, nor any efficacy if nature be repugnant to 
it.—View of the Theory of the Art of Healing, by James Gregory.] 


MISAPPLICATIONS OP THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUCTION. 523 

which we may, for the sake of distinction, give the title of political 
arithmeticians, or statistical collectors; to the other, that of political 
economists, or political philosophers. The former are generally 
supposed to have the evidence of experience in their favour, and 
seldom fail to arrogate to themselves exclusively, the merit of 
treading closely in the footsteps of Bacon. In comparison with 
them, the latter are considered as little better than visionaries, or, 
at least, as entitled to no credit whatever, when their conclusions 
are at variance with the details of statistics.] 

In opposition to this prevailing prejudice it may, with confidence, 
be asserted, that, in so far as either of these branches of knowledge 
has any real value, it must rest on a basis of well-ascertained facts ; 
and that the difference between them consists only in the different 
nature of the facts with which they are respectively conversant. 
The facts accumulated by the statistical collector are merely parti¬ 
cular results, which other men have seldom an opportunity of 
verifying or of disproving ; and which, to those who consider them 
in an insulated state, can never afford any important information. 
The facts which the political philosopher professes to investigate 
are exposed to the examination of all mankind; and while they 
enable him, like the general laws of physics, to ascertain number¬ 
less particulars by synthetic reasoning, they furnish the means of 
estimating the credibility of evidence resting on the testimony of 
individual observers. 

It is acknowledged by Mr. Smith, with respect to himself, that 
he had “ no great faith in political arithmetic (Wealth of Nations, 
vol. ii. p. 310, 9th edit.;) and I agree with him so far as to think 
that little, if any, regard is due to a particular phenomenon, when 
stated as an objection to a conclusion resting on the general laws 
which regulate the course of human affairs. Even admitting the 
phenomenon in question to have been accurately observed, and 
faithfully described, it is yet possible that we may be imperfectly 
acquainted with that combination of circumstances whereby the 
effect is modified; and that, if these circumstances were fully 
before us, this apparent exception would turn out an additional 
illustration of the very truth which it was brought to invalidate. 

If these observations be just, instead of appealing to political 
arithmetic as a check on» the conclusions of political economy, it 
would often be more reasonable to have recourse to political 
economy as a check on the extravagancies of political arithmetic. 
Nor will this assertion appeal* paradoxical to those who consider, 
that the object of the political arithmetician is too frequently 
to record apparent exceptions to rules sanctioned by the general 
experience of mankind; and, consequently, that in cases where 
there is an obvious or a demonstrative incompatibility between the 
alleged exception and the general principle, the fair logical infer- 
ence is not against the truth of the latter, hut against the possibility 
of the former. 


PART II. 


CHAP. X. 


524 


It has long been an established opinion among the most judicious 
and enlightened philosophers—that as the desire of bettering our 
condition appears equally from a careful review of the motives 
which habitually influence our own conduct, and from a general 
suryey of the history of our species, to be the master-spring of 
human industry, the labour of slaves never can be so productive as 
that of freemen. Not many years have elapsed since it was cus¬ 
tomary to stigmatize this reasoning as visionary and metaphysical ; 
and to oppose to it that species of evidence to which we were often 
reminded that all theories must bendthe evidence of experi¬ 
mental calculations, furnished by intelligent and credible observers 
on the other side of the Atlantic. An accurate examination of the 
fact has shown how wide of the truth these calculations were ;— 
but independently of any such detection of their fallacy, might it 
not have been justly affirmed, that the argument from experience 
was decidedly against their credibility ; the facts appealed to resting 
solely upon the good sense and good faith of individual witnesses ; 
while the opposite argument, drawn from the principles of the 
human frame, was supported by the united voice of all nations 
and ages ? 

If we examine the leading principles which run through Mr. 
Smith’s Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of 
Nations, we shall find, that all of them are general facts or general 
results, analogous to that which has been just mentioned. [Of this 
kind, for instance, are the following propositions, from which a very 
large proportion of his characteristical doctrines follow, as necessary 
and almost manifest corollaries:—That what we call the political 
order, is much less the effect of human contrivance than is com¬ 
monly imagined :—That every man is a better judge of his own 
interest than any legislator can be for him ; and that this regard to 
private interest (or, in other words, this desire of bettering our 
condition) may be safely trusted to as a principle of action universal 
among men in its operation—a principle stronger, indeed, in some 
than in others, but constant in its habitual influence upon all:— 
That, where the rights of individuals are completely protected by 
the magistrate, there is a strong tendency in human affairs, arising 
from what we are apt to consider as the selfish passions of our nature, 
to a progressive and rapid improvementmn the state of society :— 
That this tendency to improvement in human affairs is often so 
very powerful, as to correct the inconveniences threatened by the 
errors of the statesman :—And that, therefore, the reasonable pre¬ 
sumption is in favour of every measure which is calculated to afford 
to its farther ^development, a scope still freer than what it at present 
enjoys; or, which amounts very nearly to the same thing, in favour 
of as great a liberty in the employment of industry, of capital, and 
of talents, as is consistent with the security of property, and of the 
other rights of our fellow-citizens.] The premises, it is perfectly 
obvious, from which these conclusions are deduced, are neither 


MISAPPLICATIONS OF THE WORDS EXPERIENCE AND INDUCTION. 525 

hypothetical assumptions, nor metaphysical abstractions. They are 
practical maxims of good sense, approved by the experience of men 
in all ages of the world; and of which, if we wish for any additional 
confirmations, we have only to retire within our own bosoms, or to 
open our eyes on what is passing around us. 

From these considerations it would appear, that in politics, as 
well as in many of the other sciences, the loudest advocates for 
experience are the least entitled to appeal to its authority in favour 
of their dogmas ; and that the charge of a presumptuous confidence 
in human wisdom and foresight, which they are perpetually urging 
against political philosophers, may with far greater justice be re¬ 
torted on themselves. An additional illustration of this is presented 
by the strikingly contrasted effects of statistical and of philosophical 
studies on the intellectual habits in general;—the former invariably 
encouraging a predilection for restraints and checks, and all the 
other technical combinations of an antiquated and scholastic policy; 
—the latter, by inspiring, on the one hand, a distrust of the human 
powers, when they attempt to embrace in detail, interests at once 
so complicated and so momentous; and, on the other, a religious 
attention to the designs of nature, as displayed in the general laws 
which regulate her economy ;—leading, no less irresistibly, to a 
gradual and progressive simplification of the political mechanism. 
It is, indeed, the never-failing result of all sound philosophy, to 
humble, more and more, the pride of science before that Wisdom 
which is infinite and divine ;—whereas, the farther back we carry 
our researches into those ages, the institutions of which have been 
credulously regarded as monuments of the superiority of unsophisti¬ 
cated good sense, over the false refinements of modern arrogance, 
we are the more struck with the numberless insults offered to the 
most obvious suggestions of nature and of reason. We may remark 
this, not only in the moral depravity of rude tribes, but in the 
universal disposition which they discover to disfigure and distort 
the bodies of their infants;—in one case, new-modelling the form 
of the eyelids;—in a second, lengthening the ears;—in a third, 
checking the growth of the feet;—in a fourth, by mechanical 
pressures applied to the head, attacking the seat of thought and 
intelligence. To allow the human form to attain, in perfection, 
its fair proportions, is one of the latest improvements of civilized 
society; and the case is perfectly analogous in those sciences which 
have for their object to assist nature in the cure of diseases ; in 
the development and improvement of the intellectual faculties; 
in the correction of bad morals; and in the regulations of political 
economy. 


526 


PART II. 


CHAP. xr. 


CHAPTER XI. 

OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 

I. Opinion of Lord Bacon on the subject.—Final causes rejected by 
Des Cartes , and by the majority of French Philosophers.—Recognised 
as legitimate objects of research by Newton .— Tacitly acknowledged by 
all as a useful logical Guide, even in Sciences which have no imme¬ 
diate relation to Theology. — The study of Final Causes may be 
considered in two different points of view : first, as subservient to > 
the evidences of natural religion ; and, secondly, as a guide and 
auxiliary in the investigation of physical laws. Of these views, it 
is the latter alone which is immediately connected with the princi¬ 
ples of the inductive logic ; and it is to this, accordingly, that I 
shall chiefly direct my attention in the following observations. 

I shall not, however, adhere so scrupulously to a strict arrangement 
as to avoid all reference to the former, where the train of my reflec¬ 
tions may naturally lead to it. The truth is, that the two specula¬ 
tions will, on examination, be found much more nearly allied than 
might at first sight be apprehended. 

I before observed, that the phrase “ final cause” was first intro¬ 
duced by Aristotle; and that the extension thus given to the [ 
notion of causation contributed powerfully to divert the inquiries 
of his followers from the proper objects of physical science. In ) 
reading the strictures of Bacon on this mode of philosophizing, it 
is necessary always to bear in mind that they have a particular 
reference to the theories of the schoolmen; and, if they should 
sometimes appear to be expressed in terms too unqualified, due 
allowances ought to be made for the undistinguishing zeal of a 
reformer, in attacking prejudices consecrated by long and undis¬ 
turbed prescription. “ Causarum finalium inquisitio sterilis est, et 
tanquam virgo Deo consecrata, nihil parit.” * Had a similar f 
remark occurred in any philosophical work of the eighteenth 
century, it might perhaps have been fairly suspected to savour of 
the school of Epicurus ; although, even in such a case, the quaint- 
nesss and levity of the conceit would probably have inclined a 
cautious and candid reader to interpret the author’s meaning with 
an indulgent latitude. On the present occasion, however, Bacon 
is his own best commentator; and I shall therefore quote, in a 
faithful, though abridged translation, the preparatory passage by 
which this allusion is introduced. 

“ The second part of metaphysics is the investigation of final 
causes; which I object to, not as a speculation which ought to be 
neglected, but as one which has, in general, been very improperly 
regarded as a branch of physics. If this were merely a fault of 

* “ The investigation of final causes is fruitless, and, like a virgin dedicated to God 
produces nothing.” 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 527 

arrangement, I should not be disposed to lay great stress upon it; 
for arrangement is useful chiefly as a help to perspicuity, and does 
not affect the substantial matter of science. But in this instance a 
disregard of method has occasioned the most fatal consequences to 
ph iloso phy; inasmuch as the consideration of final causes in physics 
has supplanted and banished the study of physical cause s; the 
fancy amusing itself with illusory explanations derived from the 
fcnjier, and misleading the curiosity from a steady prosecution of 
the latter.” After illustrating this remark by various examples. 
Bacon adds: “ I would not, however, be understood, by these 
observations, to insinuate that the final causes just mentioned may 
not be founded in truth, and, in a metaphysical view, extremely 
worthy of attention; but only, that when such disquisitions invade 
and overrun the appropriate province of physics, they are likely to 
lay waste and ruin that department of knowledge.” The passage 
concludes with these words: “ And so much concerning metaphy¬ 
sics : the part of which relating to final causes, I do not deny, has 
been often enlarged upon in physical as well as in metaphysical 
treatises. But while, in the latter of these, it is treated of with 
propriety, in the former it is altogether misplaced; and that, not 
merely because it violates the rules of a logical order, but because 
it operates as a powerful obstacle to the progress of inductive 
science.”—(De Augm. Scient. lib. iii. cap. iv. v. See note y y.) 

The epigrammatic maxim which gave occasion to these extracts, 
has, I believe, been oftener quoted, particularly by French writers, 
than any other sentence in Bacon’s works; and, as it has in general 
been stated, without any reference to the context, in the form of a 
detached aphorism, it has been commonly supposed to convey a 
meaning widely different from what appears to have been annexed 
to it by the author. The remarks with which he has prefaced it, 
and which I have here submitted to the consideration of my readers, 
sufficiently show, not only that he meant his proposition to be re¬ 
stricted to the abuse of final causes in the physics of Aristotle, but 
that he was anxious to guard against the possibility of any mis¬ 
apprehension or misrepresentation of his opinion. A further proof 
of this is afforded by the censure which, in the same paragraph, he 
bestows on Aristotle, for “ substituting nature instead of God, as 
the fountain of final causes; and for treating of them rather as 
subservient to logic than to theology.” 

A similar observation may be made on another sentence in Bacon, 
in the interpretation of which a very learned writer (Dr. Cudworth) 
seems to have altogether lost sight of his usual candour. “ In- 
credibile est quantum agmen idolorum philosophise immiserit, 
naturalium operationum ad similitudinem actionum humanarum 
reductio.”* “ If,” says Cudworth, “ the advancer of learning here 

* « It is incredible what a number of false notions have been introduced into philo¬ 
sophy by the attempt to mould the operations of nature to a resemblance with human 
actions.” 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


528 


speaks of those who unskilfully attribute their own properties to 
inanimate bodies, (as when they say that matter desires forms as 
the female does the male, and that heavy bodies descend down by 
appetite towards the centre, that they may rest therein,) there is 
nothing to be reprehended in the passage. But if his meaning be 
extended further to take away all final causes from the things of 
nature, then is it the very spirit of atheism and infidelity. It is no 
idol of the cave or den (to use that affected language) that is, no 
prejudice or fallacy imposed on ourselves, from the attributing our 
own animalish properties to things without us, to think that the 
frame and system of this whole world was contrived by a perfect 
understanding and mind.” 

It is difficult to conceive that any person who had read Bacon’s 
works, and who at the same time, was acquainted with the theories 
which it was their great object to explode, could, for a moment, 
have hesitated about rejecting the latter interpretation as altogether 
absurd; and yet the splenetic tone which marks the conclusion of 
Cudworth’s strictures, plainly shows, that he had a decided leaning 
to it, in preference to the former.* The comment does no honour 
to his liberality; and, on the most favourable supposition, must be 
imputed to a superstitious reverence for the remains of Grecian 
wisdom, accompanied with a corresponding dread of the unknown 
dangers to be apprehended from philosophical innovations. Little 
was he aware, that, in turning the attention of men from the his¬ 
tory of opinions and systems to the observation and study of nature, 
Bacon was laying the foundation of a bulwark against atheism, 
more stable and impregnable than the united labours of the ancients 
were able to rear;—a bulwark which derives additional strength 
from every new accession to the stock of human knowledge.f 

* Even the former interpretation is not agreeable, as appears manifestly from the 
context, to Bacon’s idea. The prejudices which he has here more particularly in view, 
are those which take their rise from a bias in the mind to imagine a greater equality 
and uniformity in nature than really exists. As an instance of this, he mentions the 
universal assumption among the ancient astronomers, that all the celestial motions are 
performed in orbits perfectly circular ;—an assumption, which, a few years before 
Bacon wrote, had been completely disproved by Kepler. To this he adds some other 
examples from physics and chemistry ; after which he inti’oduces the general reflection 
animadverted on by Cudwortli.—The whole passage concludes with these words. 
“ Tanta est harmonize discrepantia inter spiritum hominis et spiritum mundi.” [So 
much is the prevailing spirit of the human mind at variance with that of the universe.] 

The criticism may appear minute ; but I cannot forbear to mention, as a proof of the 
carelessness with which Cudwortli had read Bacon, that the prejudice supposed by the 
former to belong to the class of idola specus [idols of the cave], is expressly quoted by 
the latter, as an example of the idola tribus [idols of the tribe]. (See the 5tli Book de 
Augment. Scient. chap, iv.) 

+ Extabit eximium Newtoni opus ad versus Atheorum impetus munitissimum pre¬ 
sidium.—Cotesii Preef. in Edit. Secund. Princip. [Newton’s admirable work will be 
an impregnable bulwark against the assaults of atheists.—Cotes’s Preface to the 2nd 
edition of the Principia.] 

In the above vindication of Bacon I have abstained from any appeal to the instances 
in which he has himself forcibly and eloquently expressed the same sentiments here 
ascribed to him ; because I conceive that an author’s real opinions are to be most in- 
disputably judged of from the general spirit and tendency of his writings. The follow- 


OP THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 


529 


Whether Bacon’s contempt for the Final Causes of the Aristo¬ 
telians has not carried him to an extreme in recommending the 
total exclusion of them from physics, is a very different question; 
and a question of much importance in the theory of the inductive 
logic. My own opinion is, that his views on this point, if considered 
as applicable to the present state of experimental science, are ex¬ 
tremely limited and erroneous. Perhaps, at the time when he 
wrote, such an exclusion may have appeared necessary, as the 
only effectual antidote against the errors which then infected every 
branch of philosophy ; but granting this to be true, no good reason 
can be given for continuing the same language, at a period when 
the proper object of physics is too well understood, to render it 
possible for the investigation of final causes to lead astray the most 
fanciful theorist. What harm can be apprehended from remarking 
those proofs of design which fall under the view of the physical 
inquirer in the course of his studies ? Or, if it should be thought 
foreign to his province to speak of design, he may, at least, be per¬ 
mitted to remark what ends are really accomplished by particular 
means ; and what advantages result from the general laws by which, 
the phenomena of nature are regulated. In doing this, he only 
states a fact; and if it be illogical to go farther, he may leave the 
inference to the moralist or the divine. 

In consequence, however, of the vague and common-place decla¬ 
mation against final causes, sanctioned, as has been absurdly sup¬ 
posedly those detached expressions of Bacon, which have suggested 
the foregoing reflections, it has, for many years past, become 
fashionable to omit the consideration of them entirely, as incon¬ 
sistent with the acknowledged rules of sound philosophizing;—a 
caution, it may be remarked by the way, which is most scrupulously 
observed by those writers who are the most forward to censure 
every apparent anomaly or disorder in the economy of the universe. 
The effect of this has been, to divest the study of nature of its most 
attractive charms ; and to sacrifice to a false idea of logical rigour, 
all the moral impressions and pleasures which physical knowledge 
is fitted to yield.* 

ing passage, however, is too precious a document to be omitted on the present occa¬ 
sion. It is indeed one of the most hackneyed quotations in our language ; but it forms, 
on that very account, the more striking a contrast to the voluminous and now neglected 
erudition displayed by Cudworth in defence of the same argument. 

“ I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, 
than that this universal frame is without a m ind ! It is true that a little philosophy 
inclineth man’s rnmcTto atheisnT; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about 
to religion; for while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may 
sometimes rest in them and go no farther ; but when it beholdeth the chain of them 
confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity : nay, even 
that school which is most accused of atheism, doth most demonstrate religion ; that is, 
the school of Leucippus, and Democritus, and Epicurus ; for it is a thousand times 
more credible, that four mutable elements and one immutable fifth essence, duly and 
eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of infinite small portions, ox* seeds 
unplaced, should have produced this order and beauty without a divine maiyhal. 
—Bacon’s Essays. > . 

* “ If a traveller,” says the great Mr. Boyle, u being in some ill-inhabited eastern 

M M 





5.30 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


Nor is it merely in a moral view, that the consideration of uses 
is interesting. There are some parts of nature in which it is neces¬ 
sary to complete the physical theory ; nay, there are instances, in 
which it has proved a powerful and perhaps indispensable organ 
of physical discovery. That Bacon should not have been aware of 
this, will not appear surprising, when it is recollected, that the 
chief facts which justify the observation have been brought to light 
since his time. 

Of these facts, the most remarkable are furnished by the science 
of anatomy. To understand the structure of an animal body, it is 
necessary not only to examine the conformation of the parts, but 
to consider their functions ; or, in other words, to consider their 
ends and uses: Nor, indeed, does the most accurate knowledge 
of the former, till perfected by the discovery of the latter, afford 
satisfaction to an inquisitive and scientific mind. Every anatomist, 
accordingly, whatever his metaphysical creed may be, proceeds in 
his researches upon the maxim, that no organ exists without its 
appropriate destination; and although he may often fail in his 
attempts to ascertain what this destination is, he never carries his 
scepticism so far as, for a moment, to doubt of the general principle. 
I am inclined to think, that it is in this way the most important 
steps in physiology have been gained; the curiosity being constantly 
kept alive by some new problem in the animal machine ; and, at 
the same time, checked in its wanderings by an irresistible con¬ 
viction, that nothing is made in vain. The memorable account given 
by Mr. Boyle of the circumstances which led to the discovery of the 
circulation of the blood, is but one of the many testimonies which 
might be quoted in confirmation of this opinion. 

“ I remember that when I asked our famous Harvey, in the only 
discourse I had with him, which was but a little while before he 
died, what were the things which induced him to think of a cir¬ 
culation of the blood ? he answered me, that when he took notice, 
that the valves in the veins of so many parts of the body were so 
placed, that they gave free passage to the blood towards the heart, 
but opposed the passage of the venal blood the contrary way, he 
was invited to think, that so provident a cause as nature had not 
placed so many valves without design; and no design seemed more 
probable, than that, since the blood could not well, because of the 
interposing valves, be sent by the veins to the limbs, it should be 

country, should come to a large and fair building, such as one of the most stately of 
those they call caravanzeras, though he would esteem and be delighted with the mag¬ 
nificence of the structure, and the commodiousness of the apartments, yet supposing 
it to have been erected but for the honour or the pleasure of the founder, he would 
commend so stately a fabric, without thanking him for it; but if he were satisfied that 
this commodious building was designed by the founder as a receptacle for passengers, 
who were freely to have the use of the many conveniences the apartments afforded, he 
would then think himself obliged, not only to praise the magnificence, but with 
gratitude to acknowledge the bounty and the philanthropy of so munificent a bene^ 
factor.”—Boyle’s Works, vol. iv. p. 517, folio edition. 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 531 

sent through the arteries, and return through the veins, whose 
valves did not oppose its course that way.”* 

[This perception of design and contrivance is more peculiarly 
impressive, when we contemplate those instances in the animal 
economy , in which the same effect is produced, in different combi¬ 
nations of circumstances, by different means ;—when we compare, 
for example, the circulation of the blood in the foetus, with that in 
the body of the animal after it is born.] On such an occasion, how 
is it possible to withhold the assent from the ingenious reflection of 
Baxter ? “ Art and means are designedly multiplied, that we 

might not take it for the effects of chance ; and, in some cases, the 
method itself is different, that we might see it is not the effect of 
surd necessity.” f 

* Boyle’s Works, vol. iv. p. 539, folio edit. See Outlines of Moral Philosophy, 
p. 185. (Edin. 1793.) The reasoning here ascribed to Harvey seems now so very 
natural and obvious, that some have been disposed to question his claim to the high 
rank commonly assigned to him among the improvers of science. The late Br. William 
Hunter has said, that after the discovery of the valves in the veins, which Harvey 
learned, while in Italy, from his master, Fabricius ab Aquapendente, the remaining 
step might easily have been made by any person of common abilities. “ This dis¬ 
covery,” he observes, “ set Harvey to work upon the use of the heart and vascular 
system in animals : and, in the course of some years, he was so happy as to discover, 
and to prove beyond all possibility of doubt, the circulation of the blood.” He after¬ 
wards expresses his astonishment that this discovery should have been left for 
Harvey ; adding, that “Providence meant to reserve it for him, and would not let 
men see what was before them, nor understand what they read.”—Hunter’s Intro- 
ductory Lectures, p. 42. et seq. 

Whatever opinion be formed on this point, Dr. Hunter’s remarks are valuable, as 
an additional proof of the regard paid by anatomists to final causes, in the study of 
physiology. 

See also Haller, Elem. Physiolog. tom. i. p. 204. 

f Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, vol. i. p. 136, third edit. The follow¬ 
ing passage from an old English divine may be of use for the farther illustration of this 
argument. I quote it with the greater confidence, as I find that the most eminent and 
original physiologist of the present age (M. Cuvier) has been led, by his enlightened 
researches concerning the laws of the animal economy, into a train of thinking strik¬ 
ingly similar. 

“ Man is always mending and altering his works; but nature observes the same 
tenor, because her works are so perfect, that there is no place for amendments, nothing 
that can be reprehended. The most sagacious men in so many ages have not been 
able to find any flaw in these divinely contrived and formed machines ; no blot or 
error in this great volume of the world, as if anything had been an imperfect essay at 
the first ; nothing that can be altered for the better ; nothing but if it were altered 
would be marred. This could not have been, had man’s body been the work of chance, 
and not counsel and providence. Why should there be constantly the same parts ? 
Why should they retain constantly the same places 1 Nothing so contrary as constancy 
and chance. Should I see a man throw the same number a thousand times together 
upon but three dice, could you persuade me that this were accidental, and that there 
was no necessary cause for it ? How much more incredible then is it, that constancy 
in'such a variety, such a multiplicity of parts, should be the result of chance ? Neither 
yet can these works be the effects of necessity or fate, for then there would be the 
6ame constancy observed in the smaller as well as in the larger parts and vessels ; 
whereas there we see nature doth, as it were, sport itself, the minute ramifications of 
all the vessels, veins, arteries, and nerves, infinitely varying in individuals of the same 
species, so that they are not in any two alike.”—Ray’s Wisdom of God in the Creation. 

u Nature,” says Cuvier, “ while confining herself strictly within those limits which 
the conditions necessary for existence prescribed to her, has yielded to her sponta¬ 
neous fecundity wherever these conditions did not limit her operations ; and without 

mm2 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


532 


The study of comparative anatomy leads, at every step, so directly 
and so manifestly to the same conclusion, that even those physiolo¬ 
gists who had nothing in view but the advancement of their own 
science, unanimously agree in recommending the dissection of 
animals of different kinds, as the most effectual of all helps for 
ascertaining the functions of the various organs in the human 
frame; tacitly assuming, as an incontrovertible truth, that, in 
proportion to the variety of means by which the same effect is 
accomplished, the presumption increases, that this effect was an 
end in the contemplation of the artist. “ The intention of nature,” 
says one author, “ in the formation of the different parts, can 
nowhere be so well learned as from comparative anatomy; that is, 
if we would understand physiology, and reason on the functions of 
the animal economy, we must see how the same end is brought 
about in other species.—We must contemplate the part or organ in 
different animals: its shape, position, and connexion with the 
other parts; and observe what thence arises. If we find one com¬ 
mon effect constantly produced, though in a very different way, we 
may safely conclude that this is the use or function of the part.— 
This reasoning can never betray us, if we are but sure of the 
facts.”* 

The celebrated Albinus expresses himself to the same purpose in 
his Preface to Harvey’s Exercitatio de Motu Cordis . “ Incidenda 

autem animalia, quibus partes illse quarum actiones quserimus 
esedem atque homini sunt, aut certe similes iis; ex quibus sine 
metu erroris judicare de illis hominis liceat. Quin et reliqua, si 
modo aliquam habeant ad hominem similitudinem, idonea sunt ad 
aliquod suppeditandum.”f 

If Bacon had lived to read such testimonies as these in favour of 
the investigation of final causes, or had witnessed the discoveries 
to which it has led in the study of the animal economy, he would, 
I doubt not, have readily admitted, that it was not altogether unin¬ 
teresting and unprofitable, even to the physical inquirer. Such, 


ever passing beyond the small number of combinations, that can be realized in the 
essential modifications of the important organs, she seems to have given full scope to 
her fancy, in filling up the subordinate parts. With respect to these, it is not inquired, 
whether an individual form, whether a particular arrangement be necessary ; it seems 
often not to have been asked, whether it be even useful, in order to reduce it to prac¬ 
tice ; it is sufficient that it be possible, that it destroy not the harmony of the whole. 
Accordingly, as we recede from the principal organs, and approach to those of less 
importance, the varieties in structure and. appearance become more numerous ; and 
when we arrive at the surface of the body, where the parts the least essential, and whose 
injuries are the least momentous, are necessarily placed, the number of varieties is so 
great that the conjoined labours of naturalists have not yet been able to give us an 
adequate idea of them.”—Le<jons d’Anatomie Comparee. 

* Letter by an anonymous Correspondent, prefixed to Monro’s Comparative Ana¬ 
tomy. London, 1744. 

f u We should dissect animals whose parts are endowed with actions the same with 
those of human organs, or at least similar, so that without risk of error, we may judge 
of the properties of the human frame. Still farther other animals, if they have some 
resemblance to man, can supply us with something.” 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 533 

however, is the influence of an illustrious name, that, in direct 
opposition to the evidence of historical facts, the assertion of the 
complete sterility of all these speculations is, to the present day, 
repeated, with undiminished confidence, by writers of unquestion¬ 
able learning and talents. In one of the most noted physiological 
works which have lately appeared on the Continent, Bacon’s apoph¬ 
thegm is cited more than once with unqualified approbation; 
although the author candidly owns, that it is difficult for the most 
reserved philosopher always to keep it steadily in view, in the 
course of his inquiries.* 

The prejudice against final causes, so generally avowed by the 
most eminent philosophers of France, during the eighteenth cen¬ 
tury, was first introduced into that country by Des Cartes. It 
must not, however, be imagined, that in the mind of this great 
man, it arose from any bias towards atheism. On the contrary, 
he himself tells us, that his objection to the research of uses or 
ends, was founded entirely on the presumptuous confidence which 
it seemed to argue in the powers of human reason; as if it were 
conceivable, that the limited faculties of man could penetrate into 
the counsels of Divine wisdom. Of the existence of God he con¬ 
ceived that a demonstrative proof was afforded by the idea we 
are able to form of a Being infinitely perfect, and necessarily exist¬ 
ing; and it has with some probability been conjectured, that it 
was his partiality to this new argument of his own, which led him 
to reject the reasonings of his predecessors in support of the same 
conclusion, f 

* u Je regarde, avec le grand Bacon, la philosophic des causes finales comme sterile : 
mais il est bien difficile a l’homme le plus reserve, de n’y avoir jamais recours dans 
ses explications."—Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l’Homme. Par M. le Sena- 
teur Cabanis. [Like the great Bacon, I consider the philosophy of final causes as 
unproductive, but those most on their guard will find it very difficult never to have 
recourse to it in their explanations.—The relation which the physical and moral 
nature of man bear to each other. By the Senator Cabanis.] Tome i. p. 352. 
Paris, 1805. 

T “ Nullas unquam rationes circa res naturales a fine quam Deus aut natura in iis 
faciendis sibi proposuit desumemus ; quia non tantum debemus nobis arrogare ut ejus 
consiliorum purticipes nos esse putemus.”—(Princip. pars i. sec. 28) “Dumhsec 
perpendo attentius, occurrit primo non mihi esse mirandum si qusedam a Deo fiant 
quorum rationes non intelligam ; nec de ejus existentia ideo esse dubitandum, quod 
forte qusedam alia esse experiar quee quare, vel quomodo ab illo facta sint non compre- 
hendo ; cum enim jam sciam naturam raeam esse valde infirmam et limitatam, Dei 
autem naturam esse immensam, incomprehensibilem, infinitam, ex hoc satis etiain scio 
innumerabilia ilium posse quorum causas ignorem ; atque ob banc unicam rationem 
totum illud causarum genus quod a fine peti solet in rebus physicis nullum usurn 
habere existimo ; non enim absque temeritate me puto posse investigare fiues Dei.”— 
(Meditatio Quarta.) [But we should found no speculations concerning natural things 
on the end which God or nature had in view in producing them, because, we should 
not arrogate so much to ourselves as to suppose ourselves participators of his counsels. 
—Principles, part 1st. sect. 28.—When I attentively consider these things, it foith- 
with occurs to me, that it is not wonderful if the Deity does somethings the reasons of 
which I cannot understand, that doubts should not be entertained of his existence, 
because I may perhaps meet with some things and be unable to comprehend w y an 
how they were produced. For as I know that my own nature is very weak an nni c , 
but that of God immense, incomprehensible, infinite, I therefore am certain t ia ns 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


534 


To this objection of Des Cartes, an elaborate, and, in my opinion, 
a most satisfactory reply, is to be found in the works of Mr. Boyle. 
The principal scope of his essay may be collected from the follow¬ 
ing short extract:— 

“ Suppose that a countryman, being in a clear day brought into 
the garden of some famous mathematician, should see there one of 
those curious gnomonic instruments, that show at once the place of 
the sun in the zodiac, his declination from the equator, the day of 
the month, the length of the day, &c. &c. It would indeed be 
presumption in him, being unacquainted both with the mathemati¬ 
cal disciplines, and the several intentions of the artist, to pretend 
or think himself able to discover all the ends for which so curious 
and elaborate a piece was framed; but when he sees it furnished 
with a style, with horary lines and numbers, and in short with all 
the requisites of a sun-dial, and manifestly perceives the shadow to 
mark from time to time the hour of the day, it would be no more a 
presumption than an error in him to conclude, that, whatever other 
uses the instrument was fit or was designed for, it is a sun-dial, that 
was meant to show the hour of the day.”* 

With this opinion of Boyle that of Newton so entirely coincided, 
that, according to Maclaurin, he thought the consideration of final 
causes essential to true philosophy; and was accustomed to con¬ 
gratulate himself on the effect of his writings in reviving an atten¬ 
tion to them, after the attempt of Des Cartes to discard them from 
physics. On this occasion, Maclaurin has remarked, “ that of all 
sort of causes, final causes are the most clearly placed in our view; 
and that it is difficult to comprehend why it should be thought 
arrogant to attend to the design and contrivance that is so evidently 
displayed in nature, and obvious to all men;—to maintain, for 
instance, that the eye was made for seeing, though we may not be 
able either to account mechanically for the refraction of light in its 
coats, or to explain how the image is propagated from the retina 
to the mind.”—(Account of Newton’s Philosophical Discoveries, 
book i. chap, ii.) It is Newton’s own language, however, which 
alone can do justice to his sentiments on the present subject. 


power extends to innumerable things of the causes of which I know nothing ; and for 
this sole reason I think that causes which are frequently deduced from the end, 
ought to be allowed no place in physical science. For I could not, without presump¬ 
tion, suppose that I could investigate the ends contemplated by the Deity.—Medita¬ 
tion.] See note zz. 

* In the same essay, Mr. Boyle has offered some very judicious strictures on the 
abuses to which the research of final causes is liable, when incautiously and presump¬ 
tuously pursued. An abstract of these, accompanied with a few illustrations from later 
writers, might form an interesting chapter in a treatise of inductive logic. 

The subject has been since prosecuted with considerable ingenuity by Le Sage of 
Geneva, who has even attempted, and not altogether without success, to lay down logical 
rules for the investigation of ends. To this study, which he was anxious to form into 
a separate science, he gave the very ill-chosen name of Teleologie; a name, if I am 
not mistaken, first suggested by Wolfius. For some valuable fragments of his intended 
work with respect to it, see the Account of his Life and Writings by his friend M. 
Prevost. (Geneva, 1805.) 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 535 

“ The main business of natural philosophy is to argue from 
phenomena, without feigning hypotheses, and to deduce causes 
from effects till we come to the very first cause, which certainly is 
not mechanical; and not only to unfold the mechanism of the 
world, but chiefly to resolve these and such like questions: 
Whence is it that Nature does nothing in vain ;*and whence arises 
all that order and beauty which we see in the world ?—How came 
the bodies of animals to be contrived with so much art, and for 
what ends were their several parts ? Was the eye contrived with¬ 
out skill in optics, and the ear without knowledge of sounds?”— 
(Newton’s Optics, Query 28.) 

In multiplying these quotations, I am well aware that authorities 
are not arguments ; but when a prejudice to which authority alone 
has given currency is to be combated, what other refutation is 
likely to be effectual ? 

[After all, it were to be wished that the scholastic phrase , final 
cause , could, without affectation, be dropped from our philosophical 
vocabulary; and some more unexceptionable mode of speaking 
substituted instead of it. In this elementary work I have not pre¬ 
sumed to lay aside entirely a form of expression consecrated in 
the writings of Newton, and of his most eminent followers; but I 
am fully sensible of its impropriety, and am not without hopes that 
I may contribute something to encourage the gradual disuse of it, 
by the indiscriminate employment of the words, ends and uses , to 
convey the same idea. Little more perhaps than the general 
adoption of one or other of these terms is necessary, to bring 
candid and reflecting minds to a uniformity of language as well as 
of sentiment on the point in question.] 

It was before observed, with respect to anatomists, that all of 
them, without exception, whether professedly friendly or hostile to 
the inquisition of final causes, concur in availing themselves of its 
guidance in their physiological researches. A similar remark will 
be found to apply to other classes of scientific inquirers. What¬ 
ever their speculative opinions may be, the moment their curiosity 
is fairly engaged in the pursuit of truth, either physical or moral, 
they involuntarily, and often perhaps unconsciously, submit their 
understandings to a logic borrowed neither from the schools of 
Aristotle nor of Bacon. The ethical system, for example, of those 
ancient philosophers who held that virtue consists in following 
nature, not only involves a recognition of final causes, but repre¬ 
sents the study of them, in as far as regards the ends and destina¬ 
tion of our own being, as the great business and duty of life* 
The system, too, of those physicians who profess to follow nature 

* “ Discite, O miseri, et causas cognoscite rerum. 

Quid sumus, et quidnam victuri gignimur.”—Persius. 

“ Unhappy, learn and know the cause of things, 

What, wherefore, nature in to light us brings.” 

E 7 u Se rt fiov\o/j.ai’ Kara/xadeiv T7)V (pvffiv, nai ravrri ene<rdai. —Epictet. 

[ But what do I aim at ? to learn what nature is, and to act according to it.] 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


536 


in the treatment of diseases, by watching and aiding her medicative 
powers, assumes the same doctrine as its fundamental principle. 

A still more remarkable illustration, however, of the influence 
which this species of evidence has over the belief, even when we 
are the least aware of its connexion with metaphysical conclusions, 
occurs in the history of the French Economical System. Of the 
comprehensive and elevated views which at first suggested it, the 
title of Physiocratie, by which it was early distinguished, affords a 
strong presumptive proof ; and the same thing is more fully 
demonstrated by the frequent recurrence made in it to the physical 
and moral laws of nature, as the unerring standard which the 
legislator should keep in view in all his positive institutions.* 

I do not speak at present of the justness of these opinions. I wish 
only to remark, that, in the statement of them given by their 
original authors, it is taken for granted as a truth self-evident and , 
indisputable, not merely that benevolent design is manifested in 
all the physical and moral arrangements connected with this globe, \ 
but that the study of these arrangements is indispensably necessary J 
to lay a solid foundation for political science. 

The same principles appear to have led Mr. Smith into that train 
of thinking which gave birth to his inquiries concerning National 
Wealth. “ Man,” he observes in one of his oldest manuscripts 
now extant, “ is generally considered by statesmen and projectors 
as the materials of a sort of political mechanics. Projectors disturb 
nature in the course of her operations in human affairs, and it 
requires no more than to let her alone, and give her fair play in the 
pursuit of her own designs.”—And in another passage: “ Little 
else is requisite to carry a state to the highest degree of opulence 
from the lowest barbarism, but peace, easy taxes, and a tolerable 
administration of justice ;• all the rest being brought about by the 
natural course of things. All governments which thwart this 
natural course ; which force things into another channel; or which 
endeavour to arrest the progress of society at a particular point, 
are unnatural, and to support themselves are obliged to be oppres¬ 
sive and tyrannical.” (Biographical Memoirs of Smith, Robertson, 
and Reid, p. 100.) Various other passages of a similar import 
might be quoted, both from his Wealth of Nations, and from his 
Theory of Moral Sentiments. 


* u Ces lois forment ensemble ce qu’on appelle la loi naturelle. Tous les hommes 
et toutes les puissances humaines doivent etre sounds a ces lois souveraines, institutes 
par l’etre supreme : elles sont immuables et irrefragables, et les meilleurs loix possi¬ 
bles ; et par consequent, la base du governement le plus parfait, et la regie fonda- 
mentale de toutes les loix positives ; car les loix positives ne sont que des loix de 
manutention relatives A l’ordre naturel evidemment le plus avantageux au genre 
humain.” [These laws, in the aggregate, constitute what is termed the law of nature. 
All men and all human powers ought to be subject to these supreme laws established 
by the Supreme Being ; they are immutable, irrefragable, and the best possible laws, 
and consequently the base of the most perfect government and the fundamental rule 
of all positive enactments, for positive enactments are only tentative laws relative to 
the order manifestly most beneficial to the human race.]_Quesnay. 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 537 

This doctrine of Smith and Quesnay, which tends to simplify 
the theory of legislation, by exploding the policy of those com¬ 
plicated checks and restraints which swell the municipal codes of 
most nations, has now, I believe, become the prevailing creed of 
thinking men all over Europe; and, as commonly happens to pre¬ 
vailing creeds, has been pushed by many of its partisans far beyond 
the views and intentions of its original authors. Such too is the 
effect of fashion, on the one hand, and of obnoxious phrases on the 
other, that it has found some of its most zealous abettors and pro¬ 
pagators among writers who would, without a moment’s hesitation, 
have rejected, as puerile and superstitious, any reference to final 
causes in a philosophical discussion. 

II. Danger of confounding Final with Physical Causes in the Phi¬ 
losophy of the Human Mind. —Having said so much upon the research 
of final causes in physics, properly so called, I shall subjoin a few 
remarks on its application to the philosophy of the human mind; a 
science in which the just rules of investigation are, as yet, far from 
being generally understood. Of this no stronger proof can be pro¬ 
duced, than the confusion between final and efficient causes , which per¬ 
petually recurs in the writings of our latest and most eminent 
moralists. The same confusion, as I have already observed, pre¬ 
vailed in the physical reasonings of the Aristotelians ; but, since the 
time of Bacon, has been so completely corrected, that, in the wildest 
theories of modern naturalists, hardly a vestige of it is to be traced. 

To the logical error just mentioned it is owing, that so many 
false accounts have been given of the principles of human conduct, 
or of the motives by which men are stimulated to action. When 
the general laws of our internal frame are attentively examined, 
they will be found to have for their object the happiness and 
improvement both of the individual and of society. This is their 
final cause, or the end for which we may presume they were des¬ 
tined by our Maker. But, in such cases, it seldom happens, that 
while man is obeying the active impulses of his nature, he has any 
idea of the ultimate ends which he is promoting ; or is able to cal¬ 
culate the remote effects of the movements which he impresses on 
the little wheels around him. These active impulses, therefore, 
may, in one sense, be considered as the efficient causes of his con¬ 
duct ; inasmuch as they are the means employed to determine him 
to particular pursuits and habits; and as they operate (in the first 
instance, at least), without any reflection on his part, on the purposes 
to which they are subservient. Philosophers, however, have in 
every age been extremely apt to conclude, when they had discovered 
the salutary tendency of any active principle, that it was from a 
sense or foreknowledge of this tendency that the principle derived 
its origin. Hence have arisen the theories which attempt to account 
for all our actions from self-love ; and also those which would resolve 
the whole of morality, either into political views of general expe¬ 
diency, or into an enlightened regard to our own best interests. 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


538 


I do not know of any author who has been so completely aware 
of this common error as Mr. Smith, [in examining the principles 
connected with our moral constitution, he always treats separately 
of their final causes, and of the mechanism, as he calls it, by which 
nature accomplishes the effect; and he has even been at pains to 
point out to his successors the great importance of attending to the 
distinction between these two speculations .—“ In every part of the 
universe, we observe means adjusted with the nicest artifice to the 
ends which they are intended to produce ; and in the mechanism of 
a plant or animal body, admire how everything is contrived for 
advancing the two great purposes of nature, the support of the 
individual, and the propagation of the species. But in these, and 
in all such objects, we still distinguish the efficient from the final 
cause of their several motions and organizations. The digestion 
of the food, the circulation of the blood, and the secretion of the 
several juices which are drawn from it, are operations all of them 
necessary for the great purposes of animal life; yet we never endea¬ 
vour to account for them from those purposes as from their efficient 
causes, nor imagine that the blood circulates, or the food digests, of 
its own accord, and with a view or intention to the purposes of 
circulation or digestion. The wheels of the watch are all admirably 
adapted to the end for which it was made, the pointing of the hour. 
All their various motions conspire in the nicest manner to produce 
this effect. If they were endowed with a desire and intention to 
produce it, they could not do it better. Yet we never ascribe any 
such intention or desire to them, but to the watchmaker, and we 
know that they are put into motion by a spring, which intends the 
effect it produces as little as they do. But though, in accounting for 
the operations of bodies, we never fail to distinguish, in this manner, 
the efficient from the final cause; in accounting for those of the 
mind, we are apt to confound these two different things with one 
another. When, by natural principles, we are led to advance those 
ends which a refined and enlightened reason would recommend to 
us, we are very apt to impute to that reason, as to their efficient- 
cause, the sentiments and actions by which we advance those ends, 
and to imagine that to be the wisdom of man, which, in reality, is 
the wisdom of God. Upon a superficial view, this cause seems suf¬ 
ficient to produce the effects which are ascribed to it; and the 
system of human nature seems to be more simple and agreeable, 
when all its different operations are, in this manner, deduced from 
a single principle.” (Theory of Moral Sentiments, vol. i. p. 216, 
et seq. 6th edit.) 

These remarks apply with peculiar force to a theory of morals 
which has made much noise in our times ;—a theory which resolves 
the obligation of all the different virtues into a sense of their 
utility. At the time when Mr. Smith wrote, it had been recently 
brought into fashion by the ingenious and refined disquisitions of 
Mr. Hume; and there can be little doubt that the foregoing 


OP THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 539 

strictures were meant by the author as an indirect refutation of his 
friend’s doctrines. 

The same theory, which is of a very ancient date,* has been since 
revived by Mr. Godwin, and by the late excellent Dr. Paley. 
Widely as these two writers differ in the source whence they derive 
their rule of conduct, and the sanctions by which they enforce its 
observance, they are perfectly agreed about its paramount authority 
over every other principle of action. “ Whatever is expedient,” 
says Dr. Paley, “ is right. It is the utility of any moral rule alone 
which constitutes the obligation of it.” (Principles of Moral and 
Political Philosophy, vol. i. p. 70, 5th edit.) “But then, it must 
be expedient on the whole, at the long run, in all its effects 
collateral and remote, as well as those which are immediate and 
direct; as it is obvious, that in computing consequences, it makes 
no difference in what way, or at what distance they ensue.”f 
(Ibid. p. 78.) Mr. Godwin has nowhere expressed himself, on this 
fundamental question of practical ethics, in terms more decided 
and unqualified. 

The observations quoted from Mr. Smith on the proneness of 
the mind, in moral speculations, to confound together efficient and 
final causes, furnish a key to the chief difficulty by which the patrons 
of this specious but very dangerous system have been misled. 

Among the qualities connected with the different virtues, there 
is none more striking than their beneficial influence on social hap¬ 
piness ; and accordingly, moralists of all descriptions, when employed 
in enforcing particular duties, such as justice, veracity, temperance, 
and the various charities of private life, never fail to enlarge on the 
numerous blessings which follow in their train. The same obser¬ 
vation may be applied to self-interest; inasmuch as the most effectual 
way of promoting it is universally acknowledged to be by a strict 
and habitual regard to the obligations of morality. In consequence 
of this unity of design, which is not less conspicuous in the moral 
than in the natural world, it is easy for a philosopher to give a 
plausible explanation of all our duties from one principle, because 
the general tendency of all of them is to determine us to the same 
course of life. It does not, however, follow from this, that it is 
from such a comprehensive survey of the consequences of human 
conduct, that our ideas of right and wrong are derived; or that we 

* u Ipsa utilitas, justi prope mater et aequi.”—Horat. Sat. lib. i. 3. [Utility itself, in 
a great measure, the mother of justice and equity. Horace, Satires, Book 1.] 

f In another part of Tiis work, Dr. Paley explicitly asserts, that every moral rule is 
liable to be superseded in particular cases on the ground of expediency. “ Moral 
philosophy cannot pronounce that any rule of morality is so rigid as to bend to no 
exceptions; nor, on the other hand, can she comprise these exceptions within any pre¬ 
vious description. She confesses, that the obligation of every law depends upon its 
ultimate utility ; that this utility, having a finite and determinate value, situations 
may be feigned, and consequently may possibly arise, in which the general tendency is 
outweighed by the enormity of the particular mischief ; and of course, where ultimate 
utility render’s it as much an act of duty to break the rule, as it is on other occasions 
to observe it.”—Vol. ii. p. 411. 


540 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


are entitled, in particular cases, to form rules of action to ourselves, 
drawn from speculative conclusions concerning the final causes of 
our moral constitution. If it be true, as some theologians have 
presumed to assert, that benevolence is the sole principle of action 
in the Deity, we must suppose that the duties of veracity and 
justice were enjoined by Him, not on account of their intrinsic 
rectitude, but of their utility ; but still, with respect to man, these 
are sacred and indispensable laws—laws which he never transgresses 
without incurring the penalties of self-condemnation and remorse. 
And indeed if, without the guidance of any internal monitor, he 
were left to infer the duties incumbent on him from a calculation 
and comparison of remote effects, we may venture to affirm, that 
there would not be enough of virtue left in the world to hold society 
together. 

To those who have been accustomed to reflect on the general 
analogy of the human constitution, and on the admirable adapta¬ 
tion of its various parts to that scene in which we are destined to 
act, this last consideration will, independently of any examination 
of the fact, suggest a very strong presumption a priori against the 
doctrine to which the foregoing remarks relate. For is it at all con¬ 
sonant with the other arrangements so wisely calculated for human 
happiness to suppose, that the conduct of such a fallible and short¬ 
sighted creature as man, would be left to be regulated by no other 
principle than the private opinion of each individual concerning 
the expediency of his own actions? or, in other words, by the 
conjectures which he might form on the good or evil resulting, on 
the whole, from an endless train of future contingencies ? Were 
this the case, the opinions of mankind with respect to the rules of 
morality would be as various as their judgments about the probable 
issue of the most doubtful and difficult determinations in politics. 
Numberless cases might be fancied, in which a person would not 
only claim merit but actually possess it, in consequence of actions 
which are generally regarded with indignation and abhorrence; 
for unless we admit such duties as justice, veracity, and gratitude, 
to be immediately and imperatively sanctioned by the authority of 
reason and of conscience, it follows as a necessary inference, that 
we are bound to violate them, whenever, by doing so, we have a 
prospect of advancing any of the essential interests of society; or, 
which amounts to the same thing, that a good end is sufficient to 
sanctify whatever means may appear to us to be necessary for its 
accomplishment. Even men of the soundest and most penetrating 
understandings might frequently be led to the perpetration of 
enormities, if they had no other light to guide them but what they 
derived from their own uncertain anticipations of futurity. And 
when we consider how small the number of such men is, in com¬ 
parison of those whose judgments are perverted by the prejudices 
of education and their own selfish passions, it is easy to see what a 
scene of anarchy the world would become. Of this indeed we have 


OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. 


541 


too melancholy an experimental proof, in the history of those 
individuals who have in practice adopted the rule of general ex¬ 
pediency as their whole code of morality—a rule which the most 
execrable scourges of the human race have, in all ages, professed 
to follow, and of which they have uniformly availed themselves, as 
an apology for their deviations from the ordinary maxims of right 
and wrong. 

Fortunately for mankind, the peace of society is not thus 
entrusted to accident, the great rules of a virtuous conduct being 
confessedly of such a nature as to be obvious to every sincere and 
well-disposed mind. And it is in a peculiar degree striking, that, 
while the theory of ethics involves some of the most abstruse ques¬ 
tions which have ever employed the human faculties, the moral 
judgments and moral feelings of the most distant ages and nations, 
with respect to all the most essential duties of life, are one and 
the same. # 

Of this theory of utility, so strongly recommended to some by 
the powerful genius of Hume, and to others by the well-merited 
popularity of Paley, the most satisfactory of all refutations is to be 
found in the work of Mr. Godwin. It is unnecessary to inquire 
how far the practical lessons he has inculcated are logically inferred 
from his fundamental principle; for although I apprehend much 
might be objected to these, even on his own hypothesis, yet, if such 
he the conclusions to which, in the judgment of so acute a reasoner, 
it appeared to lead with demonstrative evidence, nothing farther is 
requisite to illustrate the practical tendency of a system, which, 
absolving men from the obligations imposed on them with so com¬ 
manding an authority by the moral constitution of human nature, 
abandons every individual to the guidance of his own narrow views 
concerning the complicated interests of political society.* 

One very obvious consideration seems to have entirely escaped 
the notice of this, as well as of many other late ^inquirers : That 

* It is remakable that Mr. Hume, by far the ablest advocate for the theory in question, 
has indirectly acknowledged its inconsistence with some of the most important facts 
which it professes to explain. ft Though the heai’t,” he observes, in the fifth section of 
his Inquiry concerning Morals, u takes not part entirely with those general notions, 
nor regulates all its love and hatred by the universal abstract differences of vice and 
virtue, without regard to self, and the persons with whom we are more intimately con¬ 
nected : yet have these moral differences a considerable influence, and being sufficient, 
at least for discourse, serve all the purposes in company, in the pulpit, on the theatre, 
and in the schools.”—On this passage, the following very curious note is to be found 
at the end of the volume ; a note, by the way, which deserves to be added to the 
other proofs already given of the irresistible influence which the doctrine of final 
causes occasionally exercises over the most sceptical minds. “ It is wisely ordained by 
nature, that private connexions should commonly prevail over universal views and 
considerations ; otherwise our affections and actions would be dissipated and lost, for 
want of a proper limited object.”—Does not this remark imply an acknowledgment, 
first, That the principle of general expediency (the sole principle of virtuous conduct, 
according to Mr. Hume, in our most important transactions with our fellow-creatures) 
would not contribute to the happiness of society, if men should commonly act upon 
it ; and, secondly, That some provision is made in our moral constitution, that we shall, 
in fact, be influenced by other motives in discharging the offices of private life ? 


542 


PART II. 


CHAP. XI. 


in ethical researches, not less than in those which relate to the 
material universe, the business of the philosopher is limited to the 
analytical investigation of general laws from the observed pheno¬ 
mena ; and that if, in any instance, his conclusions should be found 
inconsistent with acknowledged facts, the former must necessarily 
be corrected or modified by the latter. On such occasions, the 
ultimate appeal must be always made to the moral sentiments and 
emotions of the human race. The representations, for example, 
which we read with so much delight, in those poets, of whatever 
age and country, who have most successfully touched the human 
heart;—of the heroical sacrifices made to gratitude, to parental 
duty, to filial piety, to conjugal affection ;—are not amenable to the 
authority of any ethical theory, but are the most authentic records 
of the phenomena which it is the object of such theories to genera¬ 
lize. The sentiment of Publius Syrus—Omne dixeris maledictum, 
quum ingratum hominem dixeris*—speaks a language which accords 
with every feeling of an unperverted mind;—it speaks the language 
of nature, which it is the province of the moralist not to criticise, 
but to listen to with reverence. By employing our reason to inter¬ 
pret and to obey this, and the other moral suggestions of the heart, 
we may trust with confidence, that we take the most effectual 
means in our power to augment the sum of human happiness ;— 
but the discovery of this connexion between virtue and utility is 
the slow result of extensive and philosophical combinations ; and it 
would soon cease to have a foundation in truth, if men were to 
substitute their own conceptions of expediency, instead of those 
rules of action which are inspired by the wisdom of God. (See 
Note AAA.) 

It must not be concluded from the foregoing observations, that, 
even in ethical inquiries, the consideration of final causes is to be 
rejected. On the contrary, Mr. Smith himself, whose logical pre¬ 
cepts on this subject I have now been endeavouring to illustrate 
and enforce, has frequently indulged his curiosity in speculations 
about uses or advantages; and seems plainly to have considered 
them as important objects of philosophical study, not less than 
efficient causes. The only caution to be observed is, that the one 
may not be confounded with the other. 

Between these two different researches, however, there is, both 
in physics and ethics, a very intimate connexion. In various cases, 
the consideration of final causes has led to the discovery of some 
general law of nature ; and, in almost every case, the discovery of 
a general law clearly points out some wise and beneficent purposes 
to which it is subservient. Indeed, it is chiefly the prospect of such 
applications which renders the investigation of general laws inter¬ 
esting to the mind. (See Note bbb.) 

* “ You express every sort of depravating when you speak of an ungrateful person.” 


CONCLUSION. 


543 


CONCLUSION OF PART II. 

In the foregoing chapters of this. Second Part, I have endeavoured 
to turn the attention of my readers to various important questions 
relating to the human understanding; aiming, in the first place, to 
correct some fundamental errors in the theories commonly received 
with respect to the powers of intuition and of reasoning; and, 
secondly, to illustrate some doctrines connected with the ground¬ 
work of the inductive logic, which have been either overlooked or 
misapprehended by the generality of preceding writers. The bulk 
to which the volume has already extended, renders it impossible for 
me now to attempt a detailed recapitulation of its contents;—nor do 
I much regret the necessity of this omission, having endeavoured in 
every instance, as far as I could, to enable the intelligent reader to 
trace the thread of my discussions. 

In a work professedly elementary, the frequent references made 
to the opinions of others may, at first sight, appear out of place; 
and it may not unnaturally be thought, that I have too often in¬ 
dulged in critical strictures, where I ought to have confined myself 
to a didactic exposition of first principles. To this objection I have 
only to reply, that [my aim is not to supplant any of the established 
branches of academical study; but by inviting and encouraging the 
young philosopher, when his academical career is closed, to review 
with attention and candour his past acquisitions, to put him in the 
way of supplying what is defective in the present systems of educa¬ 
tion.] I have accordingly entitled my book. Elements—not of 
Logic or of Pneumatology, but—of the Philosophy of the Human 
Mind; a study which, according to my idea of it, presupposes a 
general acquaintance with the particular departments of literature 
and of science, but to which I do not know that any elementary 
introduction has yet been attempted. It is a study, indeed, whereof 
little more perhaps than the elements can be communicated by the 
mind of one individual to that of another. 

In proof of this, it is sufficient here to hint, (for I must not at 
present enlarge on so extensive a topic,) that a knowledge of the 
general laws which regulate the intellectual phenomena is, to the 
logical student, of little practical value, but as a preparation for 
the study of himself. In this respect the anatomy of the mind 
differs essentially from that of the body; the structure of the former 
(whatever collateral aids may be derived from observing the varieties 
of genius in our fellow-creatures) being accessible to those alone 
who can retire into the deepest recesses of their own internal frame; 
and even to these presenting, along with the generic attributes of 
the race, many of the specific peculiarities of the individual. The 
truth is, that on this subject every writer, whose speculations are 


PART II. 


544 

at all worthy of notice, must draw his chief materials from within; 
and that it is only by comparing the conclusions of different writers, 
and subjecting all of them to the test of our personal experience, 
that we can hope to separate the essential principles of the human 
constitution from the unsuspected effects of education and of tem¬ 
perament;* or to apply with advantage to our particular circum¬ 
stances, the combined results of our reading and of our reflections. 
The constant appeal which, in such inquiries, the reader is thus 
forced to make to his own consciousness and to his own judgment, 
has a powerful tendency to form a habit, not more essential to the 
success of his metaphysical researches, than of all his other specula¬ 
tive pursuits. 

Nearly connected with this habit, is a propensity to weigh and 
to ascertain the exact import of words; one of the nicest and. most 
difficult of all analytical processes; and that upon which more stress 
has been justly laid by our best modern logicians, than upon any 
other organ for the investigation of truth. For the culture of this 
propensity, no science is so peculiarly calculated to prepare the mind, 
as the study of its own operations. Here the imperfections of words 
constitute the principal obstacle to our progress; nor is it possible 
to advance a single step, without struggling against the associations 
imposed by the illusions of metaphorical terms, and of analogical 
theories. Abstracting, therefore, from its various practical appli¬ 
cations, and considering it merely as a gymnastic exercise to the 
reasoning powers, this study seems pointed out by nature, as the 
best of all schools for inuring the understanding to a cautious and 
skilful employment of language as the instrument of thought. 

The first two chapters of this Part relate to logical questions, 
on which the established opinions appear to me to present stum¬ 
bling-blocks at the very threshold of the science. In treating of 
these, I have canvassed with freedom, but, I hope, with due re¬ 
spect, the doctrines of some illustrious moderns, whom I am proud 
to acknowledge as my masters; of those, more particularly, whose 
works are in the highest repute in our British Universities, and 
whose errors I was, on that account, the most solicitous to rectify. 
For the space allotted to my criticisms on Condillac, no apology is 
necessary to those who have the slightest acquaintance with the 
present state of philosophy on the Continent, or who have remarked 
the growing spread, in this island, of some of his weakest and most 
exceptionable theories. On various controverted points connected 
with the theory of evidence, both demonstrative and experimental, 

I trust, with some confidence, that I shall be found to have thrown 

* I use the word temperament, in this instance, as synonymous with the idiosyncrasy 
of medical authors ; a term which I thought might have savoured of affectation if applied 
to the mind ; although authorities for such an employment of it are not wantin'* 
among old English writers. One example, directly in point, is quoted by Johnson 
from Glanville. “ The understanding, also, hath its idiosyncrasies, as well as other 
faculties.” 


CONCLUSION. 


545 


considerable light: in other instances, I have been forced to con¬ 
tent myself with proposing my doubts; leaving the task of solving 
them to future inquirers. To awaken a dormant spirit of discus¬ 
sion, by pointing out the imperfections of accredited systems, is at 
least one step gained towards the farther advancement of knowledge. 

It is justly and philosophically remarked by Burke, that “ nothing 
tends more to the corruption of science than to suffer it to stagnate. 
These waters must be troubled before they can exert their virtues. 
A man who works beyond the surface of things, though he may be 
wrong himself, yet he clears the way for others, and may chance to 
make even his errors subservient to the cause of truth.”—(Inquiry 
into the Sublime and Beautiful, part i., sec. xix.) 

The subsequent chapters, relative to the Baconian logic, bear, 
all of them, more or less, in their general scope, on the theory of 
the intellectual powers, and on the first principles of human know¬ 
ledge. In this part of my work, the reader will easily perceive, 
that I do not profess to deliver logical precepts, but to concentrate, 
and to reflect back on the philosophy of the mind, whatever scat¬ 
tered lights I have been able to collect from the experimental 
researches to which that philosophy has given birth. I have aimed, 
at the same time (and I hope not altogether without success), to 
give somewhat more of precision to the technical phraseology of the 
Baconian school, and of correctness to their metaphysical ideas. 

Before concluding these speculations, it may not be improper to 
caution my readers against supposing, that when I speak of the 
Baconian school, or of the Baconian logic, I mean to ascribe 
entirely to the Novum Organon the advances made in physical 
science, since the period of its publication. The singular effects 
of this, and of the other inestimable writings of the same author, 
in forwarding the subsequent progress of scientific discovery, cer¬ 
tainly entitle his name, far more than that of any other individual, 
to be applied as a distinguishing epithet to the modern rules of 
philosophizing; but, as I have elsewhere observed, “ the genius 
and writings of Bacon himself were powerfully influenced by the 
circumstances and character of his age: nor can there be a doubt 
that he only accelerated a revolution which was already prepared 
by many concurrent causes.” (Outlines of Moral Philosophy, first 
printed in 1793.)—My reasons for thinking so, which rest chiefly 
on historical retrospects, altogether foreign to my present design, I 
must delay stating till another opportunity. 

To this observation it is of still greater importance to add, that, 
in contrasting the spirit and the utility of the new logic with those 
of the old, I have no wish to see the former substituted, in our 
universities, in room of the latter. By a strange inversion in the 
order of instruction, logic, instead of occupying its natural place, 
at the close of the academical course, has always been considered as 
an introduction to the study of the sciences; and has, accordingly, 
been obtruded on the uninformed minds of youth, at their first 


N N 


PART II. 


546 

entrance into the schools. While the syllogistic art maintained its 
reputation, this inversion was probably attended with little practical 
inconvenience; the trite and puerile examples commonly resorted 
to for the illustration of its rules, presupposing a very slender stock 
of scientific attainments; but now, when the w;ord logic is univer¬ 
sally understood in a more extensive sense, as comprehending, along 
with an outline of Aristotle’s Organon , some account of the doctrines 
of Bacon, of Locke, and of their successors, it seems indispensably 
necessary, that this branch of education should be delayed till the 
understanding has acquired a wider and more varied range of ideas, 
and till the power of reflection, the last of our faculties which nature 
unfolds, begins to solicit its appropriate nourishment. What 
notions can be annexed to such words as analysis, synthesis, induc¬ 
tion, experience, analogy, hypothetical and legitimate theories, 
demonstrative and moral certainty, by those whose attention has 
hitherto been exclusively devoted to the pursuits of classical learn¬ 
ing? A fluent command, indeed, of this technical phraseology may 
be easily communicated; but it would be difficult to devise a more 
effectual expedient for misleading, at the very outset of life, the 
inexperienced and unassured judgment. The perusal of Bacon’s 
writings, in particular, disfigured as they are by the frequent use of 
quaint and barbarous expressions, suited to the scholastic taste of 
his contemporaries, ought to be carefully reserved for a riper age.* 

In confirmation of this last remark, many additional arguments 
might be drawn from the peculiar circumstances in which Bacon 
wrote. At the period when he entered on his literary career, 
various branches of physical science were already beginning to 
exhibit the most favourable presages of future improvement ; 
strongly inviting his original and powerful mind to co-operate in 
the reformation of philosophy. The turn of his genius fortunately 
led him to employ himself chiefly in general suggestions for the 
advancement of learning ; and, leaving to others the task of induc¬ 
tive investigation, to aim rather at stating such rules as might direct 

* Haller mentions, in his Elements of Physiology, that he was forced to enter on 
the study of logic in the tenth year of his age. “ Menrini me annum natum decimum, 
quo avidus historiam et poesin devorassem, ad logicam, et ad Claubergianam logicam 
ediscendam coactum fuisse, qua nihil poterat esse, pro hujusmodi homuncione, ster- 
ilius.”—(Tomus viii. pal's secunda, p. 24. Lausannse, 1778.) [I remember that at ten 
years of age, when I would have eagerly devoured history and poetry, I was forced 
to learn logic, and that the Claubergian logic too, than which nothing could be more 
useless for such a little fellow. 8th vol. p. 24.] It seems difficult to imagine any 
attempt more extravagant than that of instructing a child only ten years old in the 
logic of the schools ; and yet it is by no means a task so completely impracticable as 
to convey to a pupil, altogether unitiated in the Elements of Physics, a distinct idea of 
the object and rules of the Novum Organon. 

The example of Mr. Smith, during the short time he held the professorship of logic 
at Glasgow, is worthy of imitation in those universities which admit of similar devia¬ 
tions from old practices. For an account of his plan, see Biographical Memoirs of 
Smith, Robertson, and Reid, p. 12, where I have inserted a slight but masterly sketch 
of his academical labours, communicated to me by his pupil and friend, the late Mr. 
Millar. 


CONCLUSION. 


547 

and systematize their exertions. In his own experimental researches 
he was not very fortunate ; nor is much reliance to be placed on 
the facts recorded in his Histories. Perhaps the comprehensiveness 
of his views diminished his curiosity with respect to the particular 
objects of science; or, perhaps, he found the multiplicity of his 
engagements in active life more consistent with speculations in 
which the chief materials of his reasonings were to be drawn from 
his own reflections, than with inquiries which demanded an accu¬ 
rate observation of external phenomena, or a minute attention to 
experimental processes. In this respect he has been compared 

to the legislator of the Jews, who conducted his followers within 
sight of their destined inheritance, and enjoyed, in distant prospect, 
that promised land which he himself was not permitted to enter * 

The effect of this prophetic imagination in clothing his ideas, to 
a greater degree than a severe logician may approve, with the 
glowing colours of a poetical diction, was unavoidable. The wonder 
is, that his style is so seldom chargeable with vagueness and ob¬ 
scurity ; and that he has been able to bequeath to posterity so 
many cardinal and eternal truths, to which the progressive light of 
science is every day adding a new accession of lustre. Of these 
truths, however invaluable in themselves as heads or texts, preg¬ 
nant with thought, many—to borrow the expression of a Greek 
poet—sound only to the intelligent; while others present those 
confident but indefinite anticipations of intellectual regions yet 
undiscovered, which, though admirably calculated to keep alive 
and to nourish the ardour of the man of science, are more fitted to 
awaken the enthusiasm, than to direct the studies of youth. Some 
of them, at the same time, and these, I apprehend, cannot be too 
early impressed on the memory, are singularly adapted to enlarge 
and to elevate the conceptions ; exhibiting those magnificent views 
of knowledge which, by identifying its progress with the enlarge¬ 
ment of human power and of human happiness, ennoble the 
humblest exertions of literary industry, and annihilate, before the 
triumphs of genius, the most dazzling objects of vulgar ambition. 
A judicious selection of such passages, and of some general and 
striking aphorisms from the Novum Organon, would form a useful 
manual for animating the academical tasks of the student, and for 
gradually conducting him from the level of the subordinate 
sciences to the vantage-ground of a higher philosophy. 

Unwilling as I am to touch on a topic so hopeless as that of 
academical reform, I cannot dismiss this subject without remarking, 
as a fact which at some future period will figure in literary history, 

* See Cowley’s Ode, prefixed to Sprat’s History of the Royal Society. 

“ In rebus quibuscunque difficilioribus, non expectandum est ut quis simul et serat 
et metat; sed prseparatione opus est, ut per gradus maturescant.” [In some difficult 
matters it ought not to be expected that a person should sow and reap at the same 
time ; but there is need of pi’eparation, that the object of pursuit should gradually be 
matured.]—Bacon. 


N N 2 


o48 


PART II. 


that two hundred years after the date of Bacon’s philosophical 
works, the antiquated routine of study, originally prescribed in 
times of scholastic barbarism and of popish superstition, should, 
in so many universities, be still suffered to stand in the way of 
improvements, recommended at once by the present state of the 
sciences, and by the order which nature follows in developing the 
intellectual faculties. On this subject, however, I forbear to 
enlarge. Obstacles of which I am not aware, may perhaps render 
any considerable innovations impracticable ; and, in the meantime, 
it would be vain to speculate on ideal projects, while the prospect 
of realizing them is so distant and uncertain. 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note a, page 3. 

I am happy in being able to quote the following passage in illustration of a doctrine, 
against which I do not conceive it possible to urge anything but the authority of some 
illustrious names. 

“ Puisque l’existence des corps n’est pour nous que la permanence d’etres dont les 
proprietes repondent a un certain ordre de nos sensations, il en resulte qu’elle n’a rien 
de plus certain que celle d’autres etres qui se manifestent egalement par leurs effets 
sur nous ; et puisque nos observations sur nos propres facultes, confirmees par celles 
que nous faisons sur les etres pensants qui animent aussi des corps, ne nous montrent 
aucune analogie entre l’etre qui sent ou qui pense et l’6tre qui nous offre le phenomene 
de l’etendue ou de l’impenetrabilite, il n’y a aucune raison de croire ces etres de la 
meme nature. Ainsi la spirituality de l’ame n’est pas une opinion qui ait besoin de 
preuves, mais le resultat simple et naturel d’une analyse exacte de nos idees, et de nos 
facultes.”—Vie de M. Turgot, par M. Condorcet.* 

Des Cartes was the first philosopher who stated, in a clear and satisfactory manner, 
the distinction between mind and matter, and who pointed out the proper plan for 
studying the intellectual phenomena. It is chiefly in consequence of his precise ideas 
with respect to this distinction, that we may remark, in all his metaphysical writings, 
a perspicuity which is not observable in those of any of his predecessors. 

Dr. Reid has remarked, that although Des Cartes infers the existence of mind, from 
the operations of which we are conscious, yet he could not I’econcile himself to the 
notion of an unknown substance, or substratum, to which these operations belonged. 
And it was on this account, he conjectui’es, that he made the essence of the soul to 
consist in thought; as, for a similar reason, he had made the essence of matter to con¬ 
sist in extension. But I am afraid, that this supposition is not perfectly reconcileable 
with Des Cartes’ writings ; for he repeatedly speaks with the utmost confidence of the 
existence of substances of which we have only a relative idea ; and, even in attempting 
to show that thought is the essential attribute of mind, and extension of matter, he 
considers them as nothing more than attributes or qualities belonging to these sub¬ 
stances. # . . 

u Per substantiam nihil aliud intelligere possumus, quam rem quae ita existit, ut 
nulla alia re indigeat ad existendum. Et quidem substantia quae nulla plane re indi- 
geat, unica tantum potest intelligi, nempe Deus. Alias vero omnes, non nisi ope con- 
cursus Dei existere posse percipimus. Atque ideo nomen substantiae non convenit 
Deo et illis univoce ut dici solet in scholis ; hoc est, nulla ejus nominis significatio, 
potest distincte intelligi, quae Deo, et creaturis sit communis. . . 

“ Possunt autem substantia corporea, et mens, sive substantia cogitans, creata, sub 
hoc cornmuni conceptu intelligi; quod sint res, quae solo Dei concursu egent ad exist¬ 
endum. Verumtamen non potest substantia primum animadverti ex hoc solo, quod 
sit res existens, quia hoc solum per se nos non afficit: sed facile ipsam agnoscimus ex 


* “ Since the existence of bodies is, as far as we are concerned, merely the permanence of 
beings, the qualities of which correspond to a certain order of our sensations, it is a conse¬ 
quence that there is no more certainty concerning such existence than concerning the 
existence of other beings, which equally manifest themselves by their effects on us ; and since 
our observations on our own faculties, confirmed by those which we make on other thinking 
beings, which also animate bodies, display no analogy between the being which perceives and 
thinks, and the being which presents to us the phenomena of extension and impenetrability, 
there is no reason for concluding that these beings are of the same nature. Thus the spiritual 
nature of the soul is not an opinion requiring proof, but the simple and natural consequence 
of an exact analysis of our ideas and faculties.”—Life of M. Turgot, by M. Condoicet. 






550 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


quolibet ejus attribute), per cominunem illam notionem, quod nihili nulla sunt attri- 
buta, nullseve proprietates aut qualitates. Ex hoc enim, quod aliquod attributura 
adesse percipiamus, concludimus aliquam rem existentem, sive substantiam cui illud 
tribui possit, necessario etiam adesse. 

“ Et quidem ex quolibet attributo substantia cognoscitur : sed una tamen est cujus¬ 
que substantiae prsecipua proprietas, quae ipsius naturam essentiamque constituit, et 
ad quam aliae omnes referuntur. Nempe extensio in longum, latum etprofundum sub¬ 
stantiae corporeae naturam constituit; et cogitatio constituit naturam substantiae cogi- 
tantis.”—Princip. Philosoph. pars i. cap. 51—53.* 

In stating the relative notions which we have of mind and of body, I have avoided 
the use of the word substance, as I am unwilling to furnish the slightest occasion for 
controversy ; and have contented myself with defining mind to be that which feels, 
thinks, wills, hopes, fears, desires, &c. That my consciousness of these and other ope¬ 
rations is necessarily accompanied with a conviction of my own existence, and with a 
conviction that all of them belong to one and the same, being, is not an hypothesis, but 
a fact; of which it is no more possible for me to doubt, than of the reality of my own 
sensations or volitions. 


Note b, page 37. 

Doctor Reid remarks, that Des Cartes rejected a part only of the ancient theory of 
perception, and adopted the other part. “That theory," says he, “ may be divided 
into two parts : the first, that images, species, or forms of external objects, come from 
the object, and enter by the avenues of the senses to the mind : the second part is, 
that the external object itself is not perceived, but only the species or image of it in 
the mind. The first part, Des Cartes and his followers rejected and refuted by solid 
arguments ; but the second part, neither he nor his followers have thought of calling 
in question ; being persuaded that it is only a representative image in the mind of the 
external object that we perceive, and not the object itself. And this image, which 
the Peripatetics called a species, he calls an idea, changing the name only, while he 
admits the thing.” Intellectual Powers, Essay II. Chap. viii. § 23, Edit. 1843. 

The account which this passage contains of Des Cartes’ doctrine concerning per¬ 
ception is, I believe, agreeable to his prevailing opinion, as it may be collected from 
the general tenor of his writings ; and the observation with which it concludes is un¬ 
doubtedly true, that neither he nor any of his followers ever called in question the 
existence of ideas, as the immediate objects of our perception. With respect, however, 
to the first part of the ancient theory, as here stated, it may be proper to remark, that 
Des Cartes, although evidently by no means satisfied with it, sometimes expresses 
himself as if he had rather doubted of it, than expressly denied it; and at other times, 
when pressed with objections to his own particular system, he admits, at least in part, 
the truth of it. The following passage is one of the most explicit I recollect, in oppo¬ 
sition to the ancient doctrine. 

“Observandum pneterea, animam, nullis imagiuibus ab objectis ad cerebrum missis 
egere ut sentiat, (contra quam communiter philosophi nostri statuunt,) aut ad minimum 
longe aliter illarum imagiuum naturam concipiendam esse quam vulgo fit. Q,uum 
enim circa eas nil considerent, preeter similitudinem earum cum objectis quae repree- 
sentant, non possunt explicare, qua ratione ab objectis formari queant, et recipi ab 

* “ By substance we can understand nothing more than a thing which exists_that it stands 

in need of no other thing as necessary to its existence. And indeed there is only one substance 
conceivable which stands in need of no other subst ance, to wit, the Deity. But all others, we 
must conclude, require the concurrence of the Deity. So that the term substance is not applicable 
to the Deity, and to such beings univocally, as the schoolmen express it; that is, no signification 
of that terra can be distinctly understood as common to the Deity and his creatures. But 
created substance and created mind, or thinking substance, can be conceived in one common 
meaning, that they are things which require solely the concurrence of the Deity for their 
existence. But substance cannot primarily be perceived from this circumstance alone, because 
it exists; because this alone does not iu itself affect us, but we easily recognise it by means of 
any of its attributes, in consequence of that universal notion that there are no attributes, 
properties, or qualities of a nonentity. For, from our perceiving some attribute to be present, 
we conclude that some thing which exists, or some substance, must also be present. And 
indeed substance is known from any attribute, but there is only one chief attribute of each 
substance which constitutes its nature and essence, and to which all others are referred. For 
instance, extension in length, breadth, and depth, constitutes the nature of corporeal substance, 
and thought constitutes the nature of thinking substance.”—Piinciples of Philosophy. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


551 


organis sensuum exteriorum, et demum nervis ad cerebrum transvein. Nec alia 
causa imagines istas fingere eos impulit, nisi quod viderent mentem nostram efficaciter 
pictura excitari ad apprehendendum objectum illud, quod exhibit : ex hoc enim judi- 
cax'unt, illam eodem modo excitandam, ad apprehendenda ea quee sensus movent, per 
exiguas quasdam imagines, in capite nostro delineatas. Sed nobis contra est adver- 
tendum, multa prseter imagines esse, quae cogitationes excitant, ut exempli gratia, 
verba et signa, nullo modo similia iis quse significant.”—Dioptric, cap. 4, sec. 6.* 

In his third meditation, which contains his celebrated argument for the existence of 
a Deity, the following passage occurs. 

“ Sed hie prsecipue deiis est quserendum quas tanquam a rebus extra me existenti- 
bus desumptas considero, quaenam me moveat ratio ut illas istis rebus similes esse 
existimem ; nempe ita videor doctus a natura, et prseterea experior illas non a mea 
voluntate nec proinde a me ipso pendere, ssepe enim vel invito obversantur, ut jam, 
sivevelim sive nolim, sentio calorem, et ideo puto sensum ilium, sive ideam caloi’is a 
re a me diversa, nempe ab ignis, cui assideo calore milii advenire, nihilque magis 
obvium est, quam ut judicem istam rem suam similitudinem potius, quam aliud quid 
in me immittere : quse rationes an satis firmse sint, jam videbo. Cum liic dico me ita 
doctum esse a natura, intelligo tantum spontaneo quodam impetu me ferri ad hoc ere- 
dendum, non lumine aliquo naturali mihi ostendi esse verum, quse duo multum dis¬ 
crepant, nam qusecumque lumine naturali mihi ostenduntur, (ut quod ex eo quod 
dubitem sequatur me esse, et similia,) nullo modo dubia esse possunt quia nulla alia 
facultas esse potest, cui seque fidam ac lumini isti, quseque ilia non vera possit docere ; 
sed quantum ad impetus naturales, jam ssepe olim judicavi me ab illis in deteriorem 
partem fuisse impulsum cum de bono eligendo ageretur, nec video cur iisdem in ulla 
alia re magis fidam. Deinde quamvis idese illse a voluntate mea non pendeant, non 
ideo constat ipsas a l’ebus exti’a me positis necessario procedei’e ; ut enim impetus illi, 
de quibus mox loquebai’, quamvis in me sint, a voluntate tamen mea diversi esse 
videntur, ita forte etiam aliqua alia est in me facultas nondum mihi satis cognita ista- 
rum idearum effecti’ix, ut hactenus semper visum est illas, dum somnio, absque ulla 
rerum externarum ope in me formari ; ac denique quamvis a l’ebus a me diversis pro- 
cederent, non inde sequitur illas rebus istis similes esse debei’e ; quinimo in multis 
saepe magnum disci’imen videor depreliendisse ; sic, exempli causa, duas divei’sas solis 
ideas apud me invenio, unain tanquam a sensibus haustam, et quae maxime inter illas 
quas adventitias existimo est recensenda, per quam mihi valde parvus apparet; aliam 
vero ex rationibus astronomise desumptam, hoc est ex notionibus quibusdam mihi 
innatis elicitam vel quocumque alio modo a me factam, per quam aliquoties major 
quam teiTa exhibetur ; utraque pi’ofecto similis eidem soli exti’a me existenti esse non 
potest, et ratio persuadet illam ei maxime esse dissimilem, quse quam proxime ab ipso 
videtur emanasse. Quae omnia satis demonsti’ant me non hactenus ex cei'to judicio, 
sed tantum ex cseco aliquo impulsu ci'edidisse l’es quasdam a me diversas ex- 
istere, quse ideas sive imagines suas per oi’gana sensuum, vel quolibet alio pacto 
mihi immittant.”+ 


* “ But it is to be observed, that the mind does not for perception require images to be sent 
from objects to the brain, though our philosophers deem otherwise, at least that the nature of 
such images must be conceived very different from what they are commonly supposed ; for 
when I conceive nothing concerning them, except the similarity of them with the objects 
which they represent, I cannot explain in what manner they can be formed from objects, and 
be received by the organs of, and then be conveyed by the nerves to the brain. Nor did any 
other cause impel them to feign those images, but that they observed that our minds are 
actively excited by means of a picture to apprehend an object which it exhibits ; for from this 
they concluded that it is excited by means of certain little images delineated on tne bi’ain, to 
apprehend those things which affect the senses. But we ought to consider, on the other hand, 
that besides these images, there are many things which affect our thoughts, as for instance, 
words and signs in no respect similar to what they signify.”—Dioptrics. 

t “But here the inquiry should be made concerning those which I consider as if taken from 
things existing without me—What reason induces me to consider them similar to those things % 

_to which Treply, that I seem so taught by nature ; and besides, I know by experience, that 

they do not depend on my will, and consequently not on myself; for they often are presented 
to me when Ido not wish it—as, for instance, I feel heat at this moment, whether I wish it or 
not; and therefore I think that sensation or idea of heat to come to me from something different 
from myself, to wit, from the heat of the fire at which I am sitting ; and nothing is more 
obvious than that I should conclude that thing to impress on me its own resemblance rather 
than anything else, and shall proceed to examine whether these arguments are sufficiently 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


552 

Among other animadversions upon this meditation, sent to Des Cartes by one of his 
correspondents, it is objected : “ Videris vertere in dubium non tantum utrum idem 
aliquee procedant ex rebus externis, sed etiam utrum omnino sint externm res aliquse.” 
To which Des Cartes answers : “ Notandum est, me non affirmasse ideas rerum mate¬ 
rial ium ex mente deduci, ut non satis bona fide hie fingis ; expresse enim postea 
ostendi ipsas a corporibus srnpe ad venire, ac per hoc corporum existentiam probari.” 
—Vide Objectiones in Meditationes Renati Des Cartes, cum ejusdem ad illas Respon- 
sionibus.* 

Note c, page 39. 

In consequence of the inferences which Mr. Hume has deduced from this doctrine 
concerning cause and effect, some later authors have been led to dispute its t”uth ; 
not perceiving that the fallacy of this part of Mr. Hume’s system does not consist in 
his premises, but in the conclusion which he draws from them. 

That the object of the physical inquirer is not to trace necessary connexions, or to 
ascertain the efficient causes of phenomena, is a principle which has been frequently 
ascribed to Mr. Hume as its author, both by his followers and by his opponents ; but 
it is, in fact, of a much earlier date, and has been maintained by many of the most 
enlightened and the least sceptical of our modern philosophers : nor do I know that it 
was ever suspected to have a dangerous tendency, till the publication of Mr. Hume’s 
writings. “If we except,” says Dr. Barrow, “the mutual causality and dependence 
of the terms of a mathematical demonstration, I do not think that there is any other 
causality in the nature of things, wherein a necessary consequence can be founded. 
Logicians do indeed boast of I do not know what kind of demonstrations from external 
causes either efficient or final, but without being able to show one genuine example of 
any such ; nay, I imagine it is impossible for them so to do. For there can be no such 
connexion of an external efficient cause with its effect, (at least none such can be 
understood by us,) through which, strictly speaking, the effect is necessarily supposed 
by the supposition of the efficient cause, or any determinate cause by the supposition 
of the effect.” He adds afterwards, “ Therefore there can be no argumentation from 
an efficient cause to the effect, or from an effect to the cause which is lawfully neces¬ 
sary.”—Mathematical Lectures read at Cambridge. 

conclusive. When I say that I am thus taught by nature, I understand merely that I am 
urged by some spontaneous impulse to believe this,—not that it is shown to me to be true by 
some light of nature ; which two things differ greatly : for whatever is shown to me by the light 
of nature (as, for instance, because I doubt, that it follows therefore that I exist) cannot be 
doubtful, because I cannot have any other faculty to which I can so fully trust, as I can to 
that light, and which could prove to me that those conclusions are not true ; but as to natural 
impulses I have often judged that I have been urged to make a wrong decision when the 
question was concerning what was really good; nor can I see why I should in any other thing 
more trust such impulses. Still farther, although those ideas depend not on my will, it does 
not therefore follow that they necessarily proceed from things extraneous to me ; for, as those 
which I just now mentioned, although they are in me, seem to be distinct from my will, so 
perhaps there is in me some faculty with which I am not yet fully acquainted, which produces 
those ideas, as it appears that they are during sleep produced without any external influence; 
and finally, although they proceed from things extraneous to me, it does not follow therefore 
that they must be similar to such things, insomuch so, that I seem in many things to have 
often discovered a great difference ; as, for example, I find two different ideas of the sun in 
me—one as if derived from my senses, and which I must regard as quite casual; in consequence, 
it appears to me very small: another derived from astronomical considerations, that is, derived 
from uotions innate in me, or produced by me in some other way, and in consequence of which 
it is presented to my mind several times larger than the earth : both certainly cannot be similar 
to the same sun existing without me; and reason shows that to be the most dissimilar which 
seems most closely to proceed from it. All which things prove, that as yet it is not from any 
certain judgment, but only from some blind impulse, that I have supposed that certain things 
exist extraneous to myself, and which impress on me ideas or images through the organs of 
sense, or by some other means.” 

* “You seem to start a doubt not only as to whether any ideas be derived from external 
objects, but also whether there be any external things. It should be observed, that I do 
not affirm that ideas of material things originate in the mind, as you unfairly impute to me ; 
for subsequently I have shown that they often proceed from bodies, and that the existence of 
bodies is hence proved.”—See Objections to the Meditations of Renatus Descartes, with his 
Answers to them. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


553 

Dr. Butler too, in his discourse on the ignorance of man, has remarked, that “ it is 
in general no more than effects that the most knowing are acquainted with ; for 
as to causes, they are as entirely in the dark as the most ignorant. What are the 
laws,” he continues, “by which matter acts on matter, but certain effects, which 
some having observed to be frequently repeated, have reduced to general rules — 
Butler’s Sermons. 

“ The laws of attraction and repulsion,” says Dr. Berkeley, “ are to be regarded as 
laws of motion, and these only as rules or methods observed in the productions of 
natural effects, the efficient and final causes whereof are not of mechanical considera¬ 
tion. Certainly, if the explaining a phenomenon be to assign its proper efficient and 
final cause, it should seem the mechanical philosophers never explained anything ; 
their province being only to discover the laws of nature ; that is, the general rules 
and method of motion ; and to account for particular phenomena, by reducing them 
under, or showing their conformity to such general rules.”—Siris; or, Philosophical 
Inquiries concerning the Virtues of Tar Water, p. 108. 

“ The words attraction and repulsion may, in compliance with custom, be used where, 
accurately speaking, motion alone is meant.”—Ibid. p. 114. 

“ Attraction cannot produce, and in that sense account, for the phenomena ; being 
itself one of the phenomena produced and to be accounted for.”—Ibid. p. 115. 

“ There is a certain analogy, constancy, and uniformity in the phenomena or ap¬ 
pearances of nature, which are a foundation for general rules : and these are a gram¬ 
mar for the understanding of nature, or that series of effects in the visible world, 
whereby we are enabled to foresee what will come to pass in the natural course of 
things. Plotinus observes, in his third Ennead, that the art of presaging is in some 
sort the reading of natural letters denoting order, and that so far forth as analogy 
obtains in the universe, there may be vaticination. And in reality, he that foretells 
the motions of the planets, or the effects of medicines, or the result of chemical or 
mechanical experiments, may be said to do it by natural vaticination.” Ibid. p. 120, 121. 

“ Instruments, occasions, and signs, occur in, or rather make up, the whole visible 
course of nature.”—Ibid. p. 123. 

The following very remarkable passage from Mr. Locke shows clearly that this 
eminent philosopher considered the connexion between impulse and motion, as a con¬ 
junction which we learn from experience only ; and not as a consequence deducible 
from the consideration of impulse, by any reasoning a priori. The passage is the more 
curious, that it is this particular application of Mr. Hume’s doctrine, that has been 
generally supposed to furnish the strongest objection against it. 

“ Another idea we have of body, is the power of communicating motion by impulse ; 
and of our souls, the power of exciting motion by thought. These ideas, the one of 
body, the other of our minds, every day’s experience clearly furnishes us with ; 
but if here again we inquire how this is done, we are equally in the dark. For 
in the communication of motion by impulse, wherein as much motion is lost to one 
body as is got to the other, which is the ordinariest case, we can have no other con¬ 
ception but of the passing of motion out of the one into another ; which I think is as 
obscure and inconceivable as how our minds move or stop our bodies by thought, 
which we every moment find they do.” 

-“ The communication of motion by thought, which we ascribe to spirit, is as 

evident as that of impulse, which we ascribe to body. Constant experience makes us 
sensible of both of these, though our narrow understandings can comprehend neither.” 

-“ To conclude, sensation convinces us that there are solid extended sub¬ 
stances ; and reflection, that there are thinking ones: experience assures us of the 
existence of such beings ; and that the one hath a power to move body by impulse, and 

the other by thought.-If we would inquire farther into their nature, causes, and 

manner, we perceive not the nature of extension clearer than we do of thinking. If 
we would explain them any farther, one is as easy as the other ; and there is no more 
difficulty to conceive how a substance we know not, should by thought set body into 
motion, than how a substance we know not should by impulse set body into motion.”— 
Locke, book ii. chap. 23, secs. 28, 29. 

It is not, indeed, very easy to reconcile the foregoing observations, which are, in 
every respect, worthy of the sagacity of this excellent philosopher, with the passage 
quoted from him in page 44 of this work. 

Some of Mr. Hume’s reasonings concerning the nature of the connexions among 
physical events, coincide perfectly with those of Malebranche on the same subject; but 
they were employed by this last writer to support a very different conclusion. 

At a still earlier period Hobbes expressed himself with respect to physical con- 





554 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


nexions, in terms so nearly approaching to Mr. Hume’s, that it is difficult to suppose 
that they did not suggest to him the language which he has employed on that subject. 
“ What we call experience,” he remarks, “ is nothing else but remembrance of what 
antecedents have been followed by what consequents.” “No man,” he continues, 
“ can have in his mind a conception of the future; for the future is not yet; but of our 
conceptions of the past we make a future, or rather call past, future relatively, llius, 
after a man hath been accustomed to see like antecedents followed by like consequents, 
whensoever he seeth the like come to pass to anything he had seen before, he looks 
there should follow it the same that followed then.—When a man hath so often 
observed like antecedents to be followed by like consequents, that whensoever he seeth 
the antecedent, he looketh again for the consequent, or when he seeth the consequent, 
maketh account there hath been the like antecedent, then he calleth both the antece¬ 
dent and the consequent signs of one another,”—Hobbes’ Tripos. 

I am doubtful whether I should not add to these authorities that of Lord Bacon, 
who, although he has nowhere formally stated the doctrine now under consideration, 
has plainly taken it for granted in all his reasonings on the method of prosecuting 
philosophical inquiries ; for if we could perceive in any instance the manner in which 
a cause produces its effect, we should be able to deduce the effect from its cause by 
reasoning a priori; the impossibility of which he everywhere strongly inculcates. 
“ Homo naturae minister et interpres tautum facit et intelligit quantum de naturae 
ordine re vel mente observaverit ; nec amplius scit aut potest.” I acknowledge at the 
same time, that, from the general scope of Lord Bacon’s writings, as well as from some 
particular expressions in them with regard to causes, I am inclined to believe that his 
metaphysical notions on the subject were not very accurate, and that he was led to 
perceive the necessity of recurring to observation and experiment in natural philo¬ 
sophy, not from a speculative consideration of our ignoi’ance concerning necessary 
connexions, but from a conviction founded on a review of the history of science, of the 
insufficiency of those methods of inquiry which his predecessors had pursued. The 
notion which the ancients had formed of the object of philosophy, which they conceived 
to be the investigation of efficient causes, was the principal circumstance which misled 
them in their researches : and the erroneous opinions of Des Cartes on the same sub¬ 
ject frustrated all the efforts of his great and inventive genius in the study of physics. 
“ Pei’spicuum est,” says he in one passage, “ optimam philosophandi viam nos sequu- 
turos, si ex ipsius Dei cognitione rerum ab eo creatarum cognitionem deducere co- 
nemur, ut ita scientiam perfectissimam quae est effectuum per causas acquiramus.”* 

The strong prejudice which has been entertained of late against Mr. Hume’s doctrine 
concerning the connexion among physical events, in consequence of the dangerous 
conclusions to which it has erroneously been supposed to lead, will, I hope, be a suffi¬ 
cient apology for multiplying so many authorities in support of it. 

Note d, page 41. 

This language has ever been adopted by philosophers, and by atheists as well as 
theists. The latter have represented natural events as parts of a great chain, the 
highest link of which is supported by the Deity. The former have pretended that 
there is no absurdity in supposing the number of links to be infinite. Mr. Hume had 
the merit of showing clearly to philosophers, that our common language, with respect 
to cause and effect, is merely analogical ; and that if there be any links among physical 
events they must for ever remain invisible to us. If this part of his system be 
admitted, and if, at the same time, we admit the authority of that principle of the 
mind which leads us to refer every change to an efficient cause, Mr. Hume’s doctrine 
seems to be more favourable to theism than even the common notions upon this sub¬ 
ject ; as it keeps the Deity always in view, not only as the first, but as the constantly 
operating efficient cause in nature, and as the great connecting principle among all 
the various phenomena which we observe. This, accordingly, was the conclusion 
which Malebranche deduced from premises very nearly the same with Mr. Hume’s. 

Note e, page 64. 

Mr. Locke, in his Essay on Human Understanding, has taken notice of the quick¬ 
ness with which the operations of the mind are carried on, and has referred to the 

* “ It is clear that we shall follow the best mode of philosophising, if we attempt to deduce 
the knowledge of all things created by God, from his knowledge of them ; so that we should 
in this way attain the most perfect sort of knowledge, which is that of effects by means of their 
causes.” There is, I believe, reason to doubt if Des Cartes had ever read the works of Bacon. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


555 

acquired perceptions of sight as a proof of it. The same author has been struck with 
the connexion between this class of facts and our habitual actions ; but he does not 
state the question, whether such actions are voluntary or not. I think it probable, 
from his mode of expression, that his opinion on the subject was the same with mine! 
The following quotation contains all the remarks I recollect in his writings, that have 
any connexion with the doctrines of the present chapter :— 

“ We are farther to consider, concerning perception, that the ideas we receive by 
sensation are often, in grown people, altered by the judgment, without our taking 
notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round globe of any uniform colour, e. g. 
gold, alabaster, or jet, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted on our mind is of a 
flat circle, variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and bi’ightness coming 
to our eyes. But we, having by use been accustomed to perceive what kind of appear¬ 
ance convex bodies are wont to make in us, and what alterations are made in the 
reflections of light by the difference of the sensible figure of bodies, the judgment 
presently, by a habitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes; so that, 
from that which truly is variety of shadow or colour, collecting the figure, it makes it 
pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself the perception of a convex figure, and 
an uniform colour ; when the idea we receive from thence is only a plane variously 
coloured, as is evident in painting.”—Chap. ix. sec 8. 

“ But this is not, I think, usually in any of our ideas but those received by sight; 
because sight, the most comprehensive of all our senses, conveying to our minds the 
ideas of light and colours, which are peculiar only to that sense, and also the far 
different ideas of space, figure, and motion, the several varieties whereof change the 
appearances of its proper object, viz. light and colours, we bring ourselves by use to 
judge of the one by the other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit in things where¬ 
of we have frequent experience, is performed so constantly, and so quick, that we take 
that for the perception of our sensation, which is an idea formed by our judgment ; so 
that one, viz. that of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and is scarce taken any 
notice of itself ; as a man who reads or hears with attention and understanding, takes 
little notice of the characters or sounds, but of the ideas that are excited in him by 
them. 

“ Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little notice, if we consider how very 
quick the actions of the mind are performed ; for as itself is thought to take up no 
space, to have no extension, so its actions seem to require no time, but many of them 
seem to be crowded into an instant. I speak this in comparison to the actions of the 
body. Any one may easily observe this in his own thoughts, who will take the pains 
to reflect on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds, with one glance, see 
all parts of a demonstration, which may vei’y well be called a long one, if we consider 
the time it will require to put it into words, and step by step show it to another ? 
Secondly, we shall not be much surprised that this is done in us with so little notice, 
if we consider how the facility which we get of doing things by a custom of doing, 
makes them often pass in us without our notice. Habits, especially such as are begun 
very early, come at last to produce actions in us, which often escape our observation. 
How frequently do we in a day cover our eyes with our eyelids, without perceiving 
that we are at all in the dark ! Men that by custom have got the use of a by-word, 
do almost in every sentence pronounce sounds, which, though taken notice of by others, 
they themselves neither hear nor observe ; and, therefore, it is not so strange that 
our mind should often change the idea of its sensation into that of its judgment, and 
make one serve only to excite the other, without our taking notice of it.”—Ibid, 
secs. 9, 10. 

The habit mentioned by Locke, in this paragraph, of occasionally winking with the 
eyelids, (which is not accompanied with any memory of our being, in every such 
instance, in a momentary state of total darkness,) deserves to be added to the cases 
already mentioned, to show the dependence of memory upon attention. 

Note f, page 88. 

- “ Platoni quid idea sit, peculiar! tractatione prolixe excussimus,* qucc 

consuli ab iis debet, qui accurate totam rei seriem pernoscere cupiunt. Nos pro prse- 
sentis instituti modo paucis notamus, Platoni ideam non esse illam, quse ex contem- 
platione objectorum singularium exsurgit ; notionem universalem reique alicujus 

* Brucker here alludes to his work, entitled “ Historia Philosophica de Ideiswhich I 
have never had an opportunity of seeing. 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


556 

generalem conceptum, quem recentiores icleam vocant, ille eiSt] vocavit et ab idea 
distinxit. Sed idese sunt illi essentialia rerum omnium singularium exemplaria, 
avroovaia guadentia, ad quorum naturam indolemque res siiigulares formatee sunt, 
et quse illis veram certamque atque stabilem essentiam largiuntur. Has ideas ex 
divina mente oriri, inque ea radicari, sua autem propria substantia gaudere, et esse 
civtcvs Kai ovtqcs ovTa statuit, et circa earum cognitionem versari intellectum liumanum, 
in his rerum essentiis separatim et extra materiam existentibus cognoscendis cardinem 
verti totius philosophise asseruit. Ridiculum id visum Aristoteli, dari extra materiam 
ejusmodi essentias universales. quibus res omnes singulares essentialiter modificaren- 
tur, rato, esse hsec Tepe'no'/u.aTa et nugas otiosi ingenii, Platonemque sine causa rationeque 
sufficienti hsec somnia ex scholis Pythagoreorum, quse istis entibus personabant, 
recepisse, suoque intulisse systemati. Cum autem negare non auderet, esse in rebus 
formas essentiales, has ideas, sive formas, qua voce Platonicum nomen exprimere 
maluit, materise ab setenio esse impressas, et in eo latere affirmavit, et ita demum ex 
rationibus istis formisque seminalibus, materiam esse formatam statuit.”—Brucker, 
Hist. Phil. vol. iii. p. 905.* 


Note g, page 89. 

The Stoics, who borrowed many of their doctrines from the other schools of philo¬ 
sophy, seem, in particular, to have derived their notions on this subject from some 
of their predecessors. Stilpo, who was of the Megaric sect, is said to have held 
opinions approaching nearly to those of the Nominalists. 

“ Stilpo universalia plane sustulit. Dicebat enim : qui hominem dicat eum neminem 
dicere, quod non hunc vel ilium ea vox significet, nec huic magis, quam alteri con- 
veniat.—Scilicet supponebat Stilpo, non dari hominem in abstracto, adeoque has species 
et genera rerum non natura existere ; cum neque in hoc neque in alio homine, ille 
homo universalis queat ostendi. Inductione itaque facta, cum neque hunc, neque 
ilium, neque alium hominem esse colligeret, inferebat nullum esse hominem, sicque 
ludendo ambigua hominis in genere sive abstracto, uti logici dicunt, et individuo sive 
singulari considerati notione, incautos exagitabat. Altiora tamen hie latere putat 
P. Bayle, et non in solo verborum lusu substitisse Stilponem, sed universalia sive 
prsedicabilia negavisse.—Neque prorsus est dissimile, fuisse Stilponem inter eos, qui 
universalia prseter nuda nomina nihil esse dicerent, quod et cynicos fecisse et alios, 
alibi docuimus : quorum partes postea suscceperunt Abelardi sequaces et tota nomi- 
nalium secta.”—Brucker, vol. i. p. 619.p 


* u The meaning which Plato assigns to idea has been examined by us in a separate treatise, 
which ought to be consulted by those who desire to examine the subject accurately. We 
observe, for the purpose of the present undertaking, that in Plato an idea is not that which 
results from the contemplation of individual objects ; that which the moderns term idea being 
a universal notion and general conception of something he called kinds, and distinguished from 
idea. But ideas are with him the essential models of all individual things possessing independent 
existence, according to the nature and type of which individual things are formed, and which 
give them a true, certain, and stable essence. He laid down that these ideas spring from the 
Divine mind, and are rooted in it, but have their own peculiar substances; and that the 
human mind is employed on the knowledge of them ; and he maintained that his whole system 
of philosophy turned on knowing these essences of things existing separately and apart from 
nature. Aristotle thought it ridiculous to take for granted such universal essences independent 
of matter, and according to which all individual things should be essentially moulded ; and he 
considered them to be rcpentf/naTa and trifles of a speculative mind, and that Plato had received 
them from the Pythagorean schools, which re-echoed w r ith them. But as he did not venture to 
deny that there are essential forms in things, he asserted that these ideas or forms, which w’as the 
term that he used to express the Platonic name, were from eternity impressed on matter, and 
latent in it, and that matter v 7 as produced from these causes and seminal forms.” 

i* “ Stilpo obviously took away universals altogether; for he, said he, who spoke of a 
man spoke of nobody, because the word signified neither this person nor that, and w r as not 
applicable to one more than to another. In fact, Stilpo thought that man was not to be 
admitted in the abstract, and consequently, that these species and genera of things did not 
exist in nature, since the universal man could not be pointed out neither in this nor in any 
other man; and, making use of induction, when he could not ascertain that this or that or 
another w ? as a man, he inferred that no one is a man, and thus perplexed novices. Bayle, 
however, supposes that his design was deeper, and that he did not merely intend a play of 
words, but denied universals or predicablcs. And it indeed is probable that Stilpo was amongst 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


557 


Note h, page 90. 

“ Seculo XI. Roscelinus vel Rucelinus sacerdos et philosophus Compendiensis, ab 
Aristotele secessum fecit, et in Stoicorum castra ita transiit, ut statuerit, universalia, 
nec ante rem, nec in re existere, nec ullam habere realem existentiain, sed esse nuda 
nomina et voces, quibus rerum siugularium genera denotentur.”—Brucker, Hist. Phil, 
vol. iii. p. 906.* * * * § 

“ Dum Porphyrius prudenter qusestionem ; an universalia revera existant, omit- 
teudam esse censet, de qua inter Platonicos et Stoicos mire decertari noverat, 
occasionem suppeditavit otioso Roscelini ingenio, earn novo acumine ingenii aggrediendi 
definiendique.”—Ibid. vol. iii. p. 674.-j- 

Roscelinus was a native of Brittany, and canon of Compiegne. He is much cele¬ 
brated, even by his adversaries, for the acuteness and subtlety of his genius, which he 
displayed both in scholastical and theological controversy. He was condemned for 
Tritheism by a council assembled at Soissons in the year 1092. (See Mosheim’s Eccle¬ 
siastical History.) It does not appear that he ever taught in Paris, or that he gave 
public lectures ; but he had the honour to direct the studies, and to form the philoso¬ 
phical opinions of Abelard, by whose means the innovations he had introduced into 
Dialectics obtained a very wide and rapid circulation.—(Brucker, vol. iii. p. 728.) He 
is mentioned as an Englishman by Mallet, in his Life of Bacon, and by other writers ; 
a mistake into which they have fallen, by confounding Britain with Bretagne. Very 
little is known of the particulars of his life. “ Primum nominalium aiunt fuisse,” 
says Leibnitz ; “ nescio quern Rucelinum Britonem.”i—See his Dissertation de Stylo 
Philosophico Marii Nizolii. 

The opinion of Abelard concerning Universals is said to have differed, in some 
respects, from that of his master. “ Alius consistit in vocibus,” says John of Salisbury, 
who was a scholar of Abelard, "licet hsec opinio cum Roscelino suo fere omnis jam 
evanuerit: alius sermones intuetur, et ad illos detorquet, quicquid alicubi de univer- 
salibus meminit scriptum. In hac autem opinione deprehensus est Peripateticus 
Abelardus noster.”—Metalog. lib. ii. c. 17.§ 

Of this difference between the doctrines of Roscelinus and Abelard, I find myself 
perfectly unable to give any account; and I am glad to find that Morhoff acknowledges 
his ignorance upon the same subject. “ Alii fuerunt, qui universalia quaesiverunt, 
non tarn in vocibus quam in sermonibus integris ; quod Joh. Sarisberiensis adscribit 
Petro Abelardo; quo quid intelligat ille mihi non satis liquet.”—Polyhist. tom. ii. 
lib. i. cap 13, sec. 2.|| 

Absurd as these controversies may now appear, such was the prevailing taste of the 
twelfth century, that they seduced the young and aspiring mind of Abelard from all the 
other pursuits which Europe then presented to his ambition. “ Ut militaris gloriee 
pompam,” says he, “ cum hsereditate et prserogativa primogenitorum meorum fratri- 
bus derelinquens, Martis curiae penitus abdicarem, ut Minervae gremio eduearer.”— 
Hist. Calam. Suar. c. i.U 

those who maintained that universals were but mere names ; which we have elsewhere shown 
that the Cynics and some others did, whose doctrine was adopted by Abelard and the whole 
sect of Nominalists.” 

* " In the eleventh century, Roscelinus or Rucelinus, a philosopher and priest of Com¬ 
piegne, seceded from Aristotle, and joined the Stoics in maintaining that universals did not 
exist before the thing, nor in the thing, and that they had no real existence, but that they 
were mere names and words by which the genera of individual things were denoted.” 

•f* “ As Porphyry prudently avoided the question whether universals really exist, because he 
knew that there was a violent dispute about it between the Stoics and Platonists, he left an 
opening to the unemployed genius of Roscelinus, of taking it up and defining with fresh 
acuteness.” 

X “ They say that one Rucelinus of Britanny was the first of the Nominalists.” 

§ “ Another rests on words, although this opinion has almost entirely vanished with its sup¬ 
porter, Roscelinus. Another regards sentences, and refers to them whatsoever he recollects to 
have been anywhere written concerning universals; and of this opinion our Abelard the Peri¬ 
patetic has been found to be.” 

|| “ There were others who sought universals not so much in words as in whole sentences, 
which John of Salisbury attributes to Peter Abelard ; but what he means by such an expres¬ 
sion I do not well know.” 

f “ So that relinquishing to my brothers the pomp of military glory, with my inheritance 



558 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Among the literary men of this period, none seems to have risen to such an eminent 
superiority above his age in the liberality of his philosophical views, as John of Salis¬ 
bury, the celebrated friend of Archbishop Becket. In his youth he had studied at 
Paris under Abelard and other eminent masters, and had applied himself with distin¬ 
guished ardour aud success to the subtile speculations which then occupied the schools. 
After a long absence, when his mind was enlarged by more liberal and useful pursuits, 
and by an extensive intercourse with the world, he had the curiosity to revisit the 
scene of his early studies, and to compare his own acquisitions with those of his old 
companions. The account which he gives of this visit is strikingly characteristical 
both of the writer and of his age : “ Inventi sunt, qui fuerant, et ubi: neque enim ad 
palmam visi sunt processisse ad qusestiones pristinas dirimendas, neque propositiun- 
culam unam adjecerant.—Expertus itaque sum quod liquido colligi potest, quia sicut 
dialectica alias expedit disciplinas, sic, si sola fuerit, jacet exsanguis et sterilis, &c.”— 
Metalog. lib. ii. cap. 10.* * 

The same author, speaking of the controversy between the Nominalists and the 
Realists, thus expresses himself. “ Quaestionem de generibus et speciebus in qua 
laborans mundus jam senuit, in qua plus temporis consumptum est quam in acquirendo 
et regendo orbis imperio consumserit Ctesarea domus : plus effusum pecuniae, quam 
iu omnibus divitiis suis possederit Croesus. Hsec enim tamdiu multos tenuit, ut cum 
hoc unum tota vita quaererent, tandem nec istud, nec aliud invenirent.”—De Nugis 
Curialium, lib. vii. cap. 12.f 


Note i, page 99. 

“ Secta nominalium, omnium inter scliolasticas profundissima, et hodiernae refor- 
matae philosophandi rationi congruentissima ; quae quum olim maxime floreret, nunc 
apud scholasticos quidem, extincta est. Unde conjicias decrementa potius quam aug- 
menta acuminis. Quum autem ipse Nizolius noster se Nominalem exserte profiteri 
non dubitet prope finem capitis sexti, libri primi; et verb in realitate formalitatum et 
universalium evertenda nervus disputationis ejus omnis potissimum contineatur, pauca 
quaedam de Nominalibus subjicere operae pretium duxi. Nominales sunt, qui omnia 
putant esse nuda nomina praeter substantias singulares, abstractorum igitur et univer¬ 
salium realitatem prorsus tollunt. Primum autem nominalium aiunt fuisse nescio 
quern Rucelinum Britonem, cujus occasione cruenta certamina in academia Parisiensi 
fuerunt excitata. 

“ Diu autem jacuit in tenebi’is secta nominalium, donee maximi vir ingenii, et eru- 
ditionis pro illo aevo summae Wilhelmus Occam Anglus, Scoti discipulus, sed mox op- 
pugnator maximus, de improviso earn resuscitavit; consensere Gregorius Ariminensis, 
Gabr. Biel, et plerique ordinis Augustinianorum, unde et in Martini Lutheri scriptis 
pi’ioribus amor nominalium satis elucet, donee procedente tempore ei'ga omnes mona- 
clios aequaliter affectus esse coepit. Generalis autem regula est, qua nominales passim 
utuntur, entia non esse multiplicands praeter necessitatem. Haec regula ab aliis 
passim oppugnatur, quasi injuria in divinam ubertatem liberalem potius quam parcam, 
et varietate ac copia rerum gaudentem. Sed, qui sic objiciunt, non satis mihi nominal¬ 
ium mentem cepisse videntur, quae, etsi obscurius proposita, hue redit ; hypothesin eo 
esse meliorem, quo simplicioi'em, et in causis eorum quae apparent reddendis eum 
optime se gerere, qui quam paucissima gratis supponat. Nam qui aliter egit, eo ipso 
naturam, aut potius autorem ejus Deum ineptae superfluitatis accusat. Si quis astro- 
lioraus rationem plienomenorum coelestium reddere potest paucis suppositis, meris 
nimirum motibus simplicibus circulai’ibus, ejus certe hypothesis ejus hypothesi prae- 
ferenda erit, qui multis orbibus varie implexis ad explicanda coelestia indiget. Ex hac 

and privilege of primogeniture, I left the court of Mars, and was educated in the bosom of 
Minerva.” 

* “ Those who were there formerly were still found in the same place: they had not suc¬ 
ceeded in terminating their former disputes, nor in acquiring a new proposition. I ascertained, 
therefore, what is sufficiently clear ; for, as dialectics advance other studies, so, if they be un¬ 
aided, they are lifeless and fruitless.” 

-f- “ The question concerning genera and species, in toiling concerning which the world has 
grown old ; in which more time has been consumed than by the Caesars in acquiring and ruling 
the empire of the world; on which more money has been spent than Croesus ever possessed. 
For this dispute so long engaged great numbers, that when they pursued this alone through 
their whole lives, they in the end discovered neither this nor anything else.”—Concerning the 
Trifles of Courtiers. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


559 

jam regula liominales deduxerunt, omnia in rerum natura explicari posse, etsi univer- 
salibus et formalitatibus realibus prorsus careatur ; qua sententia nihil verius, nihil 
nostri temporis philosopho dignius, usque adeo, ut credam ipsum Occamum non fuisse 
nominaliorem, quam nunc est Thomas Hobbes, qui, ut verum fatear, mihi, plusquam 
nominalis videtur. Non contentus enim cum nominalibus universalia ad nomina redu- 
cei’e, ipsam rerum veritatem ait in nominibus consistere, ac, quod majus est, pendere 
ab arbitrio humano, quia veritas pendeat a definitionibus terminorum, definitiones 
autem terminorum ab arbitrio humano. Heec est sententia viri inter profundissimos 
seculi censendi, qua, ut dixi, nihil potest esse nominalius.”* 

This passage from Leibnitz has given rise to a criticism of Morhoff, which appears 
to me to be extremely ill-founded : “ Accenset nominalibus,” says he, “ Leibnitzius 
Thomam Hobbensium, quern ille ipso Occamo nominaliorem, et plusquam nominalem 
vocat, qui non contentus cum nominalibus universalia ad nomina reducere, ipsam 
rerum veritatem ait in nominibus consistere, ac, quod majus est, pendere ab arbitrio 
liumano. Quae bella ejus sententia, quamquam laudat earn Leibnitzius, monstri all- 
quid alit, ac plane nequam est. Immania enim ex uno sumino paradoxo fluunt 
absurda.”—Morhoff, Polyhistor. vol. ii. p. 81.+ 

1 shall not at present enter into a particular examination of the doctrine here 
ascribed to Hobbes, which I shall have occasion to consider afterwards under the 

* “ The sect of Nominalists, the most profound of all the scholastic sects, and most conso¬ 
nant with the present reformed spirit of philosophising, though it formerly was very flourishing, 
now no longer exists among the schoolmen; whence one may conclude that there is a falling- 
off rather than an increase of subtilising. But since our Nizolius does not hesitate, near the 
end of the 6th chapter of the 1st book, to declare himself unreservedly to be a Nominalist, and 
indeed the main strength of all his arguments consists in overthrowing the reality of universal 
and forms, I have thought it worth while to add a few words concerning the Nominalists. The 
Nominalists are those who are of opinion that all things are mere words, except individual sub¬ 
stances ; therefore, they altogether do away with the reality of abstract and universal ideas. 
But they say that the first of these Nominalists was one Rucelinus of Brittany, on whose 
account bloody feuds were excited in the university of Paris. However, the sect of Nominalists 
long remained in obscurity, until revived by William Occam, an Englishman of profound 
erudition, such as prevailed in that age, and of great powers of mind, and who, from having 
been the pupil of Scotus, had become his most formidable opponent. He was joined by Gre¬ 
gory of Rimino, Gabriel Biel, and most of the Augustine order ; and hence it is, that in the 
early writings of Lutber, there is manifested a strong predilection for the Nominalists, though 
in process of time he became influenced by an indiscriminate -dislike towards the monastic 
orders. It may be regarded as a general canon of the Nominalists, that things should not be 
unnecessarily multiplied. This canon was controverted by the opposite party, as if it were 
at variance with the Divine bounty, which is liberal rather than penurious, and delighting in a 
variety and profusion of things.. Those who have made this remark do not seem to me to 
have duly appreciated the notions of the Nominalists, which, although not very explicitly de¬ 
clared, amount to this, that an hypothesis is better in proportion to its simplicity, and in 
assigning the causes of phenomena, the best course is to suppose as few things as possible gra¬ 
tuitously ; for those who adopt a contrary course charge Nature, or rather God, its author, 
of labour in vain. If an astronomer can explain the celestial phenomena with a few hypo¬ 
theses, for instance by means merely of motions in a circular orbit, his theory is certainly pre¬ 
ferable to that of one who is obliged to have recourse to a number of intricate orbits to explain 
those appearances. From this canon, the Nominalists concluded that all things in nature 
could be explained, although universals and the notion of forms were dispensed with ; than 
which opinion nothing is truer, nothing more worthy of the philosophy of our own times, in¬ 
somuch so that I do not suppose Occam himself more a Nominalist than Thomas Hobbes, 
who, I must confess, appears to me more than a Nominalist : for, not content, with the Nomi¬ 
nalists, to reduce universals to names, he asserts that the truth of things depends on words, and 
still farther, to depend on human will, because truth depends on the definitions of terms, and 
the definitions of terms on human will. This is the opinion of a man to be regarded as one 
of the most profound of his age; and, as I 6aid, nothing can be more decidedly Nominalist.” 

-j- “ Leibnitz enumerates amongst Nominalists Thomas Hobbes, whom he calls more nominal 
than Occam himself, and styles him more than a Nominalist, as he was not content, with the 
Nominalists, to reduce all things to names : he says, that the truth of things consists in names, 
and still farther, depends on human will; which fine opinion of his, although praised by 
Leibnitz, contains something monstrous, and is manifestly detestable. For frightful absurdi¬ 
ties flow from one glaring paradox.” 



560 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


article of Reasoning. I cannot, however, help remarking, that nothing but extreme 
inattention to the writings of Leibnitz could have led Morhoff to suppose that he had 
given his sanction to such an opinion. In the very passage which has now been quoted, 
the expression “ Q,ui ut verum fatear, milii plus quam nominalis videtur,”* plainly im¬ 
plies a censure of Hobbes’s philosophy ; and in another dissertation, entitled, Medi- 
tationes de Cognitione, Veritate, et Ideis, -f- he is at pains directly to refute this part of 
his system :—“ Atque ita habemus quoque discrimen inter definitiones nominates, quae 
notas tantum rei ab aliis discernendae continent, et reales, ex quibus constat rem esse 
possibilem, ethac ratione satisfit Hobbio qui veritates volebat esse arbitrarias, quia ex 
definitionibus nominalibus penderent, non considerans realitatem definitionis in arbi- 
trio non esse, nec quaslibet notiones inter se posse conjungi. Nec definitiones nomi- 
nales sufficiunt ad perfectam scientiam, nisi quando aliunde constat rem definitam esse 
possibilem,” &c_Leibnitzii Opera, edit. Dutens, tom. ii. pp. 16,17.+ 

, ■ Note k, page 102. 

“ To form a clear notion of truth, it is very necessary to consider truth of thought, 
and truth of words, distinctly one from another: but yet it is very difficult to treat of 
them asunder : because it is unavoidable, in treating of mental propositions, to make 
use of words : and then the instances given of mental pi’opositions cease immediately 
to be barely mental, and become verbal. For a mental proposition being nothing but 
a bare consideration of the ideas, as they are in our minds stripped of names, they lose 
the nature of purely mental propositions, as soon as they are put into words. 

“ And that which makes it yet harder to treat of mental and verbal propositions 
separately, is that most men, if not all, in their thinking and reasonings within them¬ 
selves, make use of words, instead of ideas, at least when the subject of their medita¬ 
tion contains in it complex ideas.”—Locke, book iv. c. 5. secs. 3, 4. 

-“ But to return to the consideration of truth. We must, I say, ob¬ 
serve two sorts of propositions, that we ai’e capable of making. 

“ First, Mental, wherein the ideas in our understandings are, without the use of 
words, put together or separated by the mind perceiving or judging of their agreement 
or disagreement. 

“Secondly, Verbal propositions, which are words, the signs of our ideas put together 
or separated in affirmative or negative sentences, &c.”—Ibid. sec. 5. 

“ Though the examining and judging of ideas by themselves, their names being quite 
laid aside, be the best and surest way to clear and distinct knowledge ; yet through the 
prevailing custom of using sounds for ideas, I think it is vei'y seldom practised. Every 
one may observe how common it is for names to be made use of, instead of the ideas 
themselves, even when men think and reason within their own breasts ; especially if 
the ideas be very complex, and made up of a great collection of simple ones. This 
makes the consideration of words and propositions so necessary a part of the treatise 
of knowledge, that it is very hard to speak intelligibly of the one, without explaining 
the other. 

u All the knowledge we have, being only of particular or of general truths, it is evi¬ 
dent that whatever may be done in the former of these, the latter can never be well 
made known, and is very seldom apprehended, but as conceived and expressed in 
words.”—Book iv. c. 6. secs. 1, 2. 

From these passages it appears, that Locke conceived the use which we make of 
words in carrying on our reasonings both with respect to particular and to general 
truths, to be chiefly the effect of custom ; and that the employment of language, how¬ 
ever convenient, is not essential to our intellectual operations. His opinion, therefore, 
did not coincide with that which I have ascribed to the Nominalists. 

On the other hand, the following passage shows clearly how widely his opinion dif¬ 
fered from that of the Realists; and indeed it would have led us to believe that it was 


* “ Who, to say the truth, seems to me move than a Nominalist.” 

+ “ Meditations on Knowledge, Truth, and Ideas.” 

+ “ And so we have a distinction between nominal definitions, which contain only the 
marks for distinguishing one thing from another, and real, from which it is clear that a thing is 
possible ; and in this way we meet the views of Hobbes, who maintained that truths are 
arbitrary, because they depend on nominal definitions, not considering that the reality depends 
not on our will, and that ideas of every sort may not be joined. Nor are the nominal defini¬ 
tions sufficient for perfect knowledge, unless when from other considerations it is manifest that 
the thing defined is possible.” 








NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 561 

the same with Berkeley’s, had not the foregoing quotations contained an explicit 
declaration of the contrary. 

“ To return to general words, it is plain, by what has been said, that general and 
universal belong not to the real existence of things, but are the inventions and creatures 
ot the understanding, made by it for its own use, and concern only signs, whether 
words or ideas. Words are general, as has been said, when used for signs of general 
ideas, and so are applicable indifferently to many particular things ; and ideas are 
general, when they are set up as the representatives of many particular things ; but 
universality belongs not to things themselves, which are all of them particular in their 
existence ; even those words and ideas which in their signification are general. When, 
therefore, we quit particulars, the generals that rest are only creatures of our own 
making ; their general nature being nothing but the capacity they are put into by the 
understanding, of signifying or representing many particulars. For the signification 
they have is nothing but a relation that by the mind of man is added to them.”—Book 
iii. c. 3. sec. 11. 

On the whole, it is evident, that Mr. Locke was neither completely satisfied with the 
doctrine of the Nominalists, nor with that of the Realists ; and therefore I think it is 
with good reason that Dr. Reid has classed him with the Conceptualists. Indeed, Mr. 
Locke has put this matter beyond all doubt himself ; for, in explaining the manner in 
which we conceive universals, he has stated his opinion in the strongest and most para¬ 
doxical and most contradictory terms. The ridicule bestowed on this part of his phi¬ 
losophy by the author of Martinus Scriblerus, although censured for unfairness by Dr. 
Warburton, is almost justified by some of his expressions. 

Note l, page 107. 

In a letter from Leibnitz to a Scotch gentleman, (Mr. Burnet of Kemuey,) dated in 
the year 1697, there is the following passage : 

‘' J’ay considere avec attention le grand ouvrage du caractere reel et langage phi- 
losophique de Monsieur Wilkins. Je trouve qu’il y a mis une infinite de belles choses, 
et nous n’avons jamais eu une table des predicamens plus accomplie. Mais l’applica- 
tion pour les caracteres, et pour la langue, n’est point conforme a ce qu’on pouvoit et 
devoit faire. J’avois considere cette matiere avant le livre de Monsieur Wilkins, 
quand j’etois un jeune homme de dix-Ueuf ans, dans mon petit livre de arte combinatorial 
et mon opinion est que ces caracteres veritablement reels et pliilosopliiques doivent 
repondre a l’analyse des pensees. II est vray que ces caracteres presupposent la 
veritable philosophie, et ce n’est que prdsentement que j’osei'ois entreprendre de les 
fabriquer. Les objections de M. Dalgarns, et de M. Wilkins, contre la methode veri¬ 
tablement philosophique ne sont que pour excuser l’imperfection de leurs essais, et 
marquent seulement les difficultes qui les en ont rebutes.”* 

The letter of which this is a part, was published at the end of “ A Defence of Dr. 
Clarke,” (which I believe is commonly ascribed to Dr. Gregory Sharpe,) and which 
was printed at London in 1744. The person mentioned by Leibnitz under the name of 
M. Dalgarns, was evidently George Dalgarno, a native of Aberdeen, and author of a 
small and very rare book, entitled, “ Ars Signorum, vulgo character universalis et 
lingua philosophica, qua poterunt, homines diversissimorum idiomatum, spatio duarum 
septimanarum, omnia animi suisensa, (in rebus familiaribus,) non minus intelligibiliter, 
sive scribendo, sive loquendo, mutuo communicare, quam linguis propriis vernaculis. 
Prxeterea, hinc etiam poterunt juvenes, philosophise principia, et veram logicse praxin, 
citius et facilius multo imbibere, quam ex vulgaribus philosophorum scriptis.”+ 

* “ I have considered attentively the great work ori ‘ a real character and philosophical 
language ’ by Mr. Wilkins. I have found that he has introduced into it a great number of 
excellent things, and we nowhere have a better table of predicaments. But the application for 
characters and for language is not conformable to that which one could and ought to make. I 
had, when a youth of nineteen, turned my attention to this subject in my treatise On the Art 
of Combination, before the appearance of Mr. Wilkins’s book ; and my opinion is, that these 
truly real and philosophical characters ought to correspond with the analysis of our thoughts. 
It is true that these characters presuppose true philosophy, and it will be only hereafter that 1 
should venture to undertake contriving. The objections of Mr. Dalgarns and of Mr. Wilkins 
against the really philosophical method, are merely to palliate the imperfection of their essays, 
and show only the difficulties which have repelled them from it.” 

•f* “ The Art of Symbols, popularly the universal and philosophical language, by which persons 


o o 



562 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


It is very remarkable that this work of Dalgarno is never, at least as far as I recol¬ 
lect, mentioned by Wilkins ; although it appears from a letter of Charles I. prefixed to 
Dalgarno’s book, that Wilkins was one of the persons who had recommended him to 
the royal favour. 

The treatise De Arte Combinatoria is published in the gfecond volume of Dutens’ edi¬ 
tion of Leibnitz’s works, but it does not appear to me to throw much light on his views 
with respect to a philosophical language. 

I must request the indulgence of the reader for adding to the length of this note, by 
quoting a passage from another performance of Leibnitz; in which he has fallen into a 
train of thought remarkably similar to that of Mr. Hume and Dr. Campbell, in the 
passages already quoted from them in this section. The performance is entitled, 
Meditationes de Cognitione, Veritate, et Ideis,* * and is printed in the second volume 
of Dutens’ edition. 

“ Plerumque autem, prcesertim in analysi longiore, non totam simul naturam rei 
intuemur, sed rerum loco signis utimur, quorum explicationem inprmsenti aliqua cogi- 
tatione compendii causa solemus prcetermittere, scientes, aut credentes nos earn habere 
in potestate : ita cum chiliogonum, seu polygonum mille sequalium laterum cogito, non 
semper naturam lateris, et aequalitatis, et millenarii (seu cubi a denario) considero, 
sed vocabulis istis (quorum sensus obscure saltern, atque imperfecte menti obversatur) 
in animo utor loco idearum, quas de iis habeo, quoniam memini me significationem 
istorum vocabulorum habere, explicationem autem nunc judico necessarian non esse ; 
qualem cogitationem csecam, vel etiam symbolicam appellare soleo, qua et in algebra, 
et in arithmetica utimur, imo fere ubique. Et certe cum notio valde composita est, 
non possumus omnes ingredientes earn notiones simul cogitare : ubi tamen hoc licet, 
vel saltern in quantum licet, cognitionem voco intuitivam. Notionis distinctse primi- 
tiva? non alia datur cognitio, quam intuitiva, ut compositarum plerumque cogitatio non 
nisi symbolica est. 

“ Ex his jam patet, nos eorum quoque, quae distincte cognoscimus, ideas non perci- 
pere, nisi quatenus cogitatione intuitiva utimur. Et sane contingit, ut nos scope falso 
credamus habere in animo ideas rerum, cum falso supponimus aliquos terminos, 
quibus utimur, jam a nobis fuisse explicatos : nec verum aut certe ambiguitati obnox- 
ium est, quod aiunt aliqui, non posse nos de re aliqua dicere, intelligendo quod dicimus, 
quin ejus habeamus ideam. Scepe enim vocabula ista singula utcunque intelligimus, 
aut nos antea intellixisse meminimus, qui tamen liac cogitatione caeca contend sumus, 
et resolutionem notionum non satis prosequimur, fit ut lateat nos contradictio, quam 
forte notio composita involvit.”f 


of the most different dialects might in the space - of two weeks communicate to each other all 
their thoughts on ordinary subjects, either by writing or speaking, and this as distinctly as in 
their native tongues. Besides, by means of it, youths may acquire the principles of philosophy, 
and true use of logic, far quicker and more easily than from the usual writings of 
philosophers.” 

* “Meditations concerning Knowledge, Truth and Ideas.” 

f “ But for the most part, especially in an analysis of considerable length, we do not at once 
take into view the whole nature of the thing, but instead of things we use signs, the explanation 
of which we are accustomed, on account of brevity, to omit, knowing or believing that we have 
it in our power. So when I think concerning a polygon of a thousand equal sides, I do 
not always consider the nature or equality of the sides, nor of the thousand, (being the cube of 
ten,) but, whilst I have but an obscure notion of the meaning of those words, I use them men¬ 
tally, instead of the ideas which I have of them, because I recollect that I know the meaning of 
those words, but do not consider their explanation at the moment to be necessary. I generally 
call such process of thought as we use in arithmetic, in algebra, and almost in every thing, 
blind, or even symbolical. And certainly when notions are much compounded, we cannot at 
once think of all the notions which enter into them. Where, however, this can be done, or at 
least as far as it can be done, I call the knowledge intuitive. The only knowledge which we 
have of a distinct primary notion is solely intuitive, as our thinking of compound ideas is but 
symbolical. From these considerations, it is plain that we receive no ideas of those things 
which we distinctly know, unless in as far as w r e have intuitive thought. And, indeed,°it 
happens that we often erroneously believe that we have ideas of things in our minds, when we 
erroneously Suppose that some terms which we employ have been explained by us ; and we 
must regard the statement as untrue, or at least chargeable with ambiguity, when some allege 
that we cannot make an affirmation which we understand concerning any thing, unless we have 
an idea of it. For often we either in some way or other understand those words, or remember 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


563 


Note m, page 118. 

As the passage quoted in .the text is taken from a work which is hut little known in 
this country, I shall subjoin the original. 

“ Qu’il me soit permis de presenter a ceux qui refusent de croire a ces perfection- 
nemens suecessifs de l’espece humaine un exemple pris dans les sciences oil la marche 
de la verite est la plus sure, ou elle peut etre mesuree avec plus de precision. Ces 
verites elementaires de geometric et d’astronomie qui avoient dte dans l’Inde et dans 
I’Egypte une doctrine occulte, sur laquelle des pretres ambitieux avoient fonde leur 
empire, etoient dans la Grece, au temps d’Arcliimede ou d’Hipparque, des connois- 
sances vulgaires enseignees dans les ecoles communes. Dans le siecle dernier, il suf- 
fisoit de quelques annees d’etude pour savoir tout ce qu’Archimede et Hipparque 
avoient pu connoitre ; et aujourd’hui deux aunees de l’enseignement d’un professeur 
vont au-dela de ce que savoient Leibnitz ou Newton. Qu’on medite cet exemple, 
qu’on saisisse cette chaine qui s’etend d’un prdtre de Memphis a Euler, et remplit la 
distance immense qui les separe : qu’on observe a chaque epoque le genie devanfant le 
si&cle present, et la me'diocrite atteignant a ce qu’il avoit decouvert dans celui qui 
precedoit, on apprendra que la nature nous a donne les moyens d’epargner le temps et 
de menager l’attention, et qu’il n’existe aucune raison de croire que ces moyens puis- 
sent avoir un terme. On verra qu’au moment ou une multitude de solutions particu- 
lieres, de faits isoles, commencent a epuiser l’attention, a fatiguer la mdmoire, ces 
theories dispersees viennent se perdre dans une methode gendrale, tous les faits se 
reunir dans un fait unique ; et que ces generalisations, ces reunions repetees n’ont, 
comme les multiplications successives d’un nombre par lui-mdme, d’autre limite qu’un 
infini auquel il est impossible d’atteindre.”—Sur 1’Instruction publique, par M. 
Condorcet. 


Continuation of Note M. Second Edition. 

How much is it to be regretted, that a doctrine so pleasing, and, at the same time, 
so philosophical, should have been disgraced by what has been since written by Con¬ 
dorcet and others, concerning the perfectibility of man, and its probable effect in 
banishing from the earth, vice, disease, and mortality ! Surely they who can reconcile 
their minds to such a creed, might be expected to treat with some indulgence the cre¬ 
dulity of the multitude. Nor is it candid to complain of the slow progress of truth, 
when it is blended with similar extravagances in philosophical systems. 

While, however, we reject these absurdities, so completely contradicted by the whole 
analogy of human affairs, we ought to guard with no less caution against another creed, 
much more prevalent in the present times ; a creed which taking for granted that all 
things are governed by chance or by a blind destiny, overlooks the beneficent arrangement 
made by Providence for the advancement and for the diffusion of useful knowledge ; 
and, in defiance both of the moral suggestions and of the universal experience of man¬ 
kind, treats with ridicule the supposed tendency of truth and justice to prevail finally 
over falsehood and iniquity. If the doctrine which encourages these favourable pro¬ 
spects of the future fortunes of our race, leads, when carried to an extreme, to paradox 
and inconsistency; the system which represents this doctrine, even when stated, with 
due limitations, as altogether groundless and visionary, leads, by a short and inevitable 
process, to the conclusions either of the Atheist or of the Manichaean. In the midst, 
indeed, of such scenes of violence and anarchy as Europe has lately witnesssd, it is 
not always easy for the wisest and best of men to remain faithful to their principles and 
their hopes : but what must be the opinions and the views of those, who, during these 
storms and convulsions of the moral world, find at once, in the apparent retrograda- 
tion of human reason, the gratification of their political ambition, and the secret 
triumph of their sceptical theories ? 

Fond, impious man! Think’st thou von sanguine cloud, 

Raised by thy breath, has quench’d the orb of day ? 

To-morrow, he repairs the golden flood, 

And warms the nations with redoubled ray. 


that we formerly understood them ; hut if we be content with this blind thought, and do not 
proceed sufficiently far to analyse the notions, it may happen that we may pass over unnoticed 
^contradiction which the compound notion involves.” 

o o 2 



564 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note n, page 133. 

It may be proper to remark, that under the title of EcQnomists, I comprehend not 
merely the disciples of Quesnay, but all those writers in France, who, about the same 
time with him, began to speculate about the natural order of political societies ; or, in 
other words, about that order which a political society would of itself gradually assume, 
on the supposition that law had no other object than to pi’otect completely the natural 
rights of individuals, and left every man at liberty to pursue his own interest in his 
own way, as long as he abstained from violating the rights of others. The connexion 
between this natural order and the improvement of mankind, has been more insisted 
on by the biographers of Turgot than by any other authors ; and the imperfect hints 
which they have given of the views of that truly great man upon this important subject, 
leave us much room to regret that he had not leisure to execute a work, which he 
appears to have long meditated, on the principles of moral and political philosophy.— 
Vie de M. Turgot, partie ii. p. 53. 

It is merely for want of a more convenient expression that I have distinguished these 
different writers by the title of Economists. It is in this extensive sense that the word 
is commonly understood in this country ; but I am sensible that it is somewhat 
ambiguous, and that, without the explanation which I have given, some of my 
observations might have been supposed to imply a higher admiration than I really 
entertain of the writings of M. Quesnay, and of the affected phraseology employed by 
his sect. 

The connexion between M. Turgot and M. Quesnay and the coincidence of their opi¬ 
nions about the most essential principles of legislation, will, I hope, justify me in rank¬ 
ing the former with the Economists ; although his views seem to have been much more 
enlarged than those of his contemporaries; and although he expressly disclaimed an 
implicit acquiescence in the opinions of any particular sect. 

“ M. Turgot etudia la doctrine de M. Gournay et de M. Quesnay, en profita, se la 
rendit propre ; et la combinant avec la connoissauce qu’il avoit du droit, et avec les 
grandes vues de legislation civile et criminelle qui avoient occupe sa tete et interesse 
son coeur, parvint a en former sur le gouvernement des nations un corps de principes a 
lui, embi’assant les deux autres, et plus complet encore.”—Memoires sur la Vie et les 
Ouvrages de M. Turgot, par M. Dupont, pp. 40. 41.* 

“ II a passd pour avoir ete attache a plusieurs sectes, ou a plusieurs societes qu’on 
appelait ainsi; et les amis qu’il avait dans ces societes diverses lui reprochaient sans 
cesse de n’dtre pas de leur avis ; et sans cesse il leur reprochait de son cote de vouloir 
faire communaute d’opinions, et de se rendre solidaires les uns pour les autres. II 
croyait cette marche propre a retarder les progres memes de leui’s decouvertes.”— 
Ibid. pp. 41. 42.f 


Note o, page 183. 

The foregoing observations on the state of the mind in sleep, and on the phenomena 
of dreaming, were written as long ago as the year 1772 ; and were read, nearly in the 
form in which they are now published, in the year 1773, in a private literary society 
in this university. A considerable number of years afterwards, at the time when I was 
occupied with very different pursuits, I happened, in turning over an old volume of 
the Scots Magazine, (the volume for the year 1749,) to meet with a short essay on the 
same subject, which surprised me by its coincidence with some ideas which had for¬ 
merly occurred to me. I have reason to believe that this essay is very little known, 


* “ M. Turgot studied the doctrine of M. Gournay and of M. Quesnay, profited by it, and 
made it his own ; and, combining it with the knowledge which he had of law and virtue, the 
grand views of civil and criminal legislation which had convinced his head and interested his 
heart, succeeded in deriving from these sources a collection of principles concerning national 
government comprehending both systems, and still more complete than they.”—Memoirs on 
the Life and Works of M. Turgot. 

t" “ H e was considered to belong to many sects or societies which were so denominated; and 
the friends which he had in those societies continually reproached him with not embracing 
their opinions, and he continually reproached them with wishing to make a common stock of 
their opinions, and with, as it were, becoming security for each other. He even thought such 
a measure calculated to retard the progress of their discoveries.” 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


565 

as I have never seen it referred to by any of the numerous writers who have since 
treated of the human mind ; nor have even heard it once mentioned in conversation. 
I had sometime ago the satisfaction to leara, accidentally, that the author was Mr. 
Thomas Melville, a gentleman who died at the early age of twenty-seven ; and whose 
ingenious observations on light and coloui’s (published in the Essays of the Edinburgh 
Philosophical Society) are well known over Europe. 

The passages which coincide the most remarkably with the doctrine I have stated, 
are the following. I quote the first with particular pleasure, on account of the support 
which it gives to an opinion which I formerly proposed in the Essay on Conception, and 
on which I have the misfortune to differ from some of my friends. 

“ When I am walking up the High-street of Edinburgh, the objects which strike 
my eyes and ears give me an idea of their presence ; and this idea is lively, full, 
and permanent, as arising from the continued operation of light and sound on the 
organs of sense. 

“ Again, when I am absent from Edinburgh, but conceiving or imagining myself to 
walk up the High-street, in relating, perhaps, what befel me on such an occasion, I 
have likewise in my mind an idea of what is usually seen and heard in the High-street; 
and this idea of imagination is entirely similar to those of sensation, though not so strong 
and durable. 

“ In this last instance, while the imagination lasts, be it ever so short, it is evident 
that I think myself in the street of Edinburgh, as truly as when I dream I am there, 
or even as when I see and feel I am there. It is true, we cannot so w r ell apply the 
w'ord belief in this case ; because the perception is not clear or steady, being ever dis¬ 
turbed, and soon dissipated, by the superior strength of intruding sensation : yet 
nothing can be more absurd than to say, that a man may, in the same individual in¬ 
stant, believe he is in one place, and imagine he is in another. No |man can demon¬ 
strate that the objects of sense exist without him ; we are conscious of nothing but our 
own sensations : however, by the uniformity, regularity, consistency, and steadiness of 
the impression, we are led to believe that they have a real and durable cause with¬ 
out us ; and we observe not anything which contradicts this opinion. But the ideas of 
imagination, being transient and % fleeting, can beget no such opinion, or habitual belief ; 
though there is as much perceived in this case as in the former, namely, an idea of the 
object within the mind. It will be easily understood that all this is intended to obviate 
an objection that might be brought against the similarity of dreaming and imagination, 
from our believing in sleep that all is real. But there is one fact that plainly sets 
them both on a parallel, that in sleep we often recollect that the scenes which we behold 
are a mere dream, in the same manner as a person awake is habitually convinced that 
the representations of his imagination are fictitious.” 

- a In this essay we make no inquiry into the state of the body in sleep. 

- “ If the operations of the mind in sleep can be fairly deduced from the same 

causes as its operations when awake, we are certainly advanced one considerable step, 
though the causes of these latter should be still unknown. The doctrine of gravitation, 
which is the most wonderful and extensive discovery in the whole compass of human 
science, leaves the descent of heavy bodies as great a mystery as ever. In philosophy, 
as in geometry, the whole art of investigation lies in reducing things that are difficult, 
intricate, and remote, to what is simpler, and easier of access, by pursuing and ex¬ 
tending the analogies of nature.” 

On looking over the same essay, I find an observation which I stated as my own in 
page 80 of this work :—“ The mere imagination of a tender scene in a romance, or 
drama, will draw tears from the eyes of those who know very well, when they recollect 
themselves, that the whole is fictitious. In the meantime they must conceive it as 
real ; and from this supposed reality arises all its influence on the human mind.” 


Continuation of Note o. Second Edition. 

SopN after the publication of the first edition of this work, a difficulty was started to 
me with respect to my conclusions concerning the state of the mind in sleep, by my 
excellent friend, M. Prevost, of Geneva ; a gentleman who has long held a high rank 
in the republic of letters, and to whose valuable correspondence 1 have often been 
indebted for much pleasure and, instruction. The same difficulty was proposed to me, 
nearly about the same time, by another friend, then at a very early period of life, who 
has since honourably distinguished himself by his observations on Di\ Darwin s Zoo- 



566 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


nomia ; the first fruits of a philosophical genius, which, I trust, is destined for more 
important undertakings.* 

As M. Prevost has, in the present instance, kindly aided me in the task of removing 
his own objection, I shall take the liberty to borrow his words : 

“ Sans l’action de la volonte, point d’effort d’attention. Sans quelque effort d’atten- 
tion, point de souvenir. Dans le sommeil, Paction de la volonte est suspendue. 
Comment done reste-t-il quelque souvenir des songes % n 

“ Je vois bien deux ou trois reponses a cette difficult^. Quant a present, elles se 
reduisent h dire, ou que dans un sommeil parfait, il n’y a nul souvenir, et que la ou 
il y a souvenir, le sommeil n’^toit pas parfait; ou que Paction de la volonte qui suffit 
pour le souvenir n'est pas suspendue dans le sommeil ; que ce degre d’activite reste a 
l’ame; que ce n’est, pour ainsi dii*e, qu’une volonte ele'mentaire et comme insensiblef.” 

I am abundantly sensible of the force of this objection ; and am far from being 
satisfied that it is in my power to reconcile completely the apparent inconsistency. 
The general conclusions, at the same time, to which I have been led, seem to result so 
necessarily from the facts I have stated, that even although the difficulty in question 
should remain for the present unsolved, it would not, in my opinion, materially affect 
the evidence on which they rest. In all our inquiries, it is of consequence to remem¬ 
ber, that when we have once arrived at a general principle by a careful induction, we 
are not entitled to reject it, because we may find ourselves unable to explain from it, 
synthetically, all the phenomena in which it is concerned. The Newtonian theory of 
the tides is not the less certain, that some apparent exceptions occur to it, of which it 
is not easy (in consequence of our imperfect knowledge of the local circumstances by 
which, in particular cases, the effect is modified) to give a satisfactory explanation. 

Of the solutions suggested by M. Prevost, the first coincides most nearly with my 
own opinion; and it approaches to what I have hinted (in page 183 of this work) con¬ 
cerning the seeming exceptions to my doctrine, which may occur in those cases where 
sleep is partial. A strong confirmation of it, undoubtedly, may be derived from the 
experience of those persons (several of whom I have happened to meet with) who 
never recollect to have dreamed, excepting when the soundness of their sleep was dis¬ 
turbed by some derangement in their general health, or by some accident which 
excited a bodily sensation. 

Another solution of the difficulty might perhaps be derived from the facts (stated in 
pp. 56, 57 of this volume) which prove, “ that a perception or an idea which passes 
through the mind without leaving any trace in the memory, may yet serve to introduce 
other ideas connected with it by the laws of association.” 

From this principle it follows, that if any one of the more remarkable circumstances 
in a dream should recur to us after we awake, it might (without our exerting during 
sleep that attention which is essential to memory) revive the same concatenation of 
particulars with which it was formerly accompanied. And what is a dream, but such 
a concatenation of seeming events presenting itself to the imagination during our 
waking hours ; the origin of which we learn by experience to refer to that interval 
which is employed in sleep ; finding it impossible to connect it with any specific time 
or place in our past history l One thing is certain, that we cannot, by any direct acts 
of recollection, recover the train of our sleeping thoughts, as we can, in an evening, 
review the meditations of the preceding day. 

Another cause, it must be owned, presents an obstacle to such efforts of recollection ; 
and is, perhaps, adequate of itself to explain the fact. During the day, we have many 
aids to memory which are wanting in sleep (those, in particular, which are furnished 
by the objects of our external senses) ; and of these aids we never fail to avail our¬ 
selves, in attempting to recollect the thoughts in which the day has been spent. We 
consider in what place we were at a particular time, and what persons and things we 

^ 98 ^ Sei Vat *° m ° n ^ oonoln ‘ a Dr. Darwin. By Thomas Brown, Esq., Edinburgh, 

f “ Without an exertion of the will, there is no effort of attention; without some effort of 
attention, there is no recollection. In sleep the action of the will is suspended—how then is 
there any recollection of dreams? I see two or ,three answers to this difficulty: for the pre¬ 
sent they reduce themselves to the observation, either that in a perfect sleep there is no 
recollection, and that where there is recollection sleep has not been perfect; or that the action 
of the will which is sufficient for recollection is not suspended in sleep; that this decree of 
activity remains to the mind; that it is, so to speak, only an elementary will, and, as it were 
imperceptible.” 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


567 

there saw ; endeavouring thus to lay hold of our intellectual processes by means of 
the sensible objects with which they were associated : and yet, with all these advan¬ 
tages, the account which most men are able to give of their meditations at the close of 
a long summer’s day, will not be found to require many sentences. As in sleep, our 
communication with the external world is completely interrupted, it is not surprising 
that the memory of our dreams should be much moi’e imperfect than that of our 
waking thoughts; even supposing us to bestow, at the moment, an equal degree of 
attention on both. 

It is of more importance to remark, in the present argument, that those persons 
who are subject to somnambulism, seldom, if ever, retain any recollection of the 
objects of their perceptions, while under the influence of this disorder. If the prin¬ 
ciples I have endeavoured to establish be just, this is a necessary consequence of their 
inattention to what then passes ai’ound them ; an inattention of Avhich nobody can 
doubt, who has had an opportunity of witnessing the vacant and unconscious stare 
which their eyes exhibit. The same fact illustrates strongly the suspension, during 
sleep, of those voluntary powers to which the operations both of mind and body are 
at other times subjected. 

These considerations derive additional evidence from a common remark, that idle 
people are most apt to di*eam, or, at least, to recollect their dreams. The thoughts of 
the busy and of the studious are directed by their habitual occupations into a particular 
channel; and the spontaneous coui’se of their ideas is checked, and turned aside, by 
the unremitted activity of their minds. In the heedless and dissipated, the thoughts 
wander carelessly from object to object, according to the obvious relations of resem¬ 
blance and of analogy, or of vicinity in place and time. As these are the prevailing 
principles of association in sleep, the chances that the dreams of such men shall be 
again presented to them in the course of the following day, are infinitely multiplied. 

Which of these solutions approaches most nearly to the real state of the fact, I do 
not presume to decide. I think it probable, that both of them are entitled to notice, 
in comparing the phenomena of dreaming with the general principles to which I have 
endeavoured to refer them. In cases where our dreams are occasioned by bodily sen¬ 
sations, or by bodily indisposition, it may be expected that the disturbed state oT our 
rest will prevent that total cessafion of the power of attention which takes place when 
sleep is profound and complete : and, in such instances, the attention which is given to 
our passing thoughts may enable us afterwards to retrace them by an act of recol¬ 
lection. On the other hand, the more general fact unquestionably is, that at the 
moment of our awaking, the interval spent in sleep presents a total blank to the 
memory ; and yet, it happens not unfrequently, that, at the distance of hours, some 
accidental circumstance occurring to our thoughts, or suggested to us from without, 
revives a long train of particulars associated in the mind with each other ; to which 
train, not being able to account otherwise for the concatenation of its parts, we give 
the name of a dream. 

After all, I am very far from supposing that I have exhausted this subject; and 
I shall be fully satisfied with the success of my inquiries, if those who are qualified 
to distinguish between legitimate and hypothetical theories shall admit that I have 
pointed out the plan on which these phenomena should be studied, and have made 
some progress, how small soever, towards its execution. Much additional light, I am 
sensible, might have been easily thrown on this part of our constitution, as well as 
upon many others, if I had not imposed on myself the restraint of adhering, wherever 
it was at all possible, to the modes of speaking employed by my predecessors in 
describing our mental operations. 

One remark I must beg leave to recommend to the consideration of those who may 
hereafter engage in this research ; that, among the astonishing appearances exhibited 
by the mind in sleep, a very large proportion are precisely analogous to those of which 
we are every moment conscious while awake. If the exciting causes, for example, of 
our dreams seem mysterious and inscrutable, is not the fact the same with the origin 
of every idea or thought which spontaneously solicits our notice ? The only difference 
is, that in the latter instance, in consequence of long and constant familiarity, they 
are surveyed, by all with little wonder, and by most with hardly any attention. In 
the former instance, they rouse the curiosity of the most illiterate, from their com¬ 
parative infrequency, and from the contrast which, in some respects, they present 
to the results of our habitual experience.—It is thus that a peasant who has been 
accustomed from his infancy to see, without any emotion, the fall of heavy bodies to 
the ground, never fails to express the liveliest admiration when he first witnesses the 
powers of the loadstone. 


568 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


In such cases, the researches of genuine science have a tendency to produce two 
moral effects equally beneficial. The one is to illustrate the unity of design in nature, 
by reconciling what seems, from its rarity or singularity to be mysterious or incom¬ 
prehensible, with the general laws which are familiarised to us by daily experience; 
the other to counteract the effects of familiarity in blunting our natural curiosity with 
respect to these laws, by leading the thoughts to some of their more curious and appa¬ 
rently anomalous applications. 

The phenomena of dreaming may perhaps, in this last point of view, form an article 
not altogether useless in the natural history of man ; inasmuch as they contribute 
to attract our attention to those intellectual powers from which it is so apt to be 
withdrawn by that external world which affords the first, and (for the common 
purposes of life) the most interesting field for their exercise. In my own case, at 
least, this supposition has been exactly verified; as the speculations concerning the 
human mind which I have ventured to present to the public, all took their rise from 
the subject to which this note refers. The observations which I have stated with 
respect to it in the text (excepting a very few paragraphs since added) were written at 
the age of eighteen, and formed a part of the first philosophical essay which I recollect 
to have attempted. The same essay contained the substance of what I have introduced 
in chapter third, concerning the belief accompanying conception ; and of the remarks 
stated in the third section of chapter fifth, on the extent of the power which the mind 
has over the train of its thoughts. When I was afterwards led professionally, at the 
distance of many years, to resume the same studies, this short manuscript was almost 
the only memorial I had preserved of these favourite pursuits of my early youth ; and 
from the views which it recalled to me, insensibly arose the analysis I have since 
undertaken of our intellectual faculties in general. 

For some indulgence to the egotism of this note, I must trust to the good-nature of 
my readers. It has been lengthened much beyond my original intention, by an anxiety 
(not, I hope, unpardonable in an autlioi’) to fix the date of some of my disquisitions 
and conclusions, of which it is highly probable-1 may magnify the importance beyond 
their just value. The situation of a public teacher, I must beg leave to add, by giving 
an immediate circulation to the doctrines he delivers, exposes him to many incon¬ 
veniences which other classes of literary men have in’their power to avoid. 

Before concluding these remarks, I cannot help reminding my readers once more 
that my fundamental principle with respect to the state of the mind in sleep is,—not, 
that the power of volition is then suspended ; but, that the influence of the will over 
the faculties both of mind and body is then interrupted.—See pp. 174-176. I mention 
this chiefly, in order to mark the difference between my doctrine, and that maintained 
in Dr. Darwin’s Zoonomia. According to this ingenious writer, “ the power of volition 
is totally suspended in perfect sleep.”—Zoonomia, vol. i. p. 315.—“ In the incubus,” 
he observes, “ the desire of moving the body is painfully exerted ; but the power of 
moving it, or volition, is incapable of action till we awake,” p. 288. Would he not 
have stated the fact more correctly, if he had said, that volition is painfully exerted ; but 
that the power of moving the body is suspended 1 In the very accurate phraseology of 
Mr. Locke, “ volition is an act of the mind, knowingly exerting that dominion it takes 
itself to have over any part of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from, any 
particular action.” This act of the mind Dr. Darwin expresses by the word desire ; 
an indistinctness still extremely common among metaphysical writers ; although it 
was long ago remarked and censured by the eminent author just quoted :—“ I find,” 
says Locke, “ the will often confounded with desire, and one put for the other ; and 
that by men who would not willingly be thought not to have very distinct notions of 
things, and not to have written vei'y clearly about them.’’—Essay on Human Under¬ 
standing, vol. i. p. 203, 13th edit. 


Note p, page 184. 

Dr. Reid has with great truth observed, that Des Cartes’ reasoning against the 
existence of the secondary qualities of matter, owe all their plausibility to the ambi¬ 
guity of words.—When he affirms, for example, that the smell of a rose is not in the 
flower but in the mind, his proposition amounts only to this, that the rose is not con¬ 
scious of the sensation of smell ; but it does not follow from Des Cartes’ reasonings, 
that there is no quality in the rose which excites the sensation of smell in the mind ;— 
which is all that any person means when he speaks of the smell of that flower. For 
the word smell, like the names of all secondary qualities, signifies two things, a sen- 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


569 

sation in the mind, and the unknown quality which fits it to excite that sensation.* 
The same remark applies to that process of reasoning by which Des Cartes attempts to 
prove that there is no heat in the fire. 

All this, I think, will be readily allowed with respect to smells and tastes, and also 
with respect to heat and cold; concerning which I agree with Dr. Reid, in thinking 
that Des Cartes’ doctrine, when cleared of that air of mystery which it derives from 
the ambiguity of words, differs very little, if at all, from the commonly received notions. 
But the case seems to be different with respect to colours, of the nature of which the 
vulgar are apt to form a very confused conception, which the philosophy of Des Cartes 
has a tendency to correct. Dr. Reid has justly distinguished the quality of colour 
from what he calls the appearance of colour, which last can only exist in a mind.'}' 
Now I am disposed to believe, that when the vulgar speak of colour, they commonly 
mean the appearance of colour ; or rather they associate the appearance and its cause 
so intimately together, that they find it impossible to think of them separately.^: The 
sensation of colour never forms one simple object of attention to the mind, like those of 
smell and taste ; but every time we are conscious of it, we perceive at the same time 
extension and figure. Hence it is, that we find it impossible to conceive colour without 
extension, though certainly there is no more necessary connexion between them, than 
between extension and smell. 

From this habit of associating the two together, we are led also to assign them the 
same place, and to conceive the different colours, or, to use Dr. Reid’s language, the 
appearance of the different colours, as something spread over the surfaces of bodies. 
I own that when we reflect on the subject with attention, we find this conception to be 
indistinct, and see clearly that the appearance of colour can exist only in a mind : but 
still it is some confused notion of this sort, which every man is disposed to form who 
has not been very familiarly conversant with philosophical inquiries.—I find, at least, 
that such is the notion which most readily presents itself to my own mind. 

Nor is this reference of the sensation, or appearance of colour to an external object, 
a fact altogether singular in our constitution. It is extremely analogous to the refer¬ 
ence which we always make, of the sensations of touch to those parts of the body 
where the exciting causes of the sensations exist. If I strike my hand against a hard 
object, I naturally say, that I feel pain in my hand. The philosophical truth is, that 
I perceive the cause of the pain to be applied to that part of my body. The sensation 
itself I cannot refer in point of place to the hand, without conceiving the soul to be 
spread over the body by diffusion. 


* Some judicious remarks on this ambiguity in the names of secondary qualities, are made 
by Malebranche. 

“ It is only,” says he, u since the time of Des Cartes, that those confused and indeterminate 
questions, whether fire is hot, grass green, and sugar sweet, philosophers are in use to answer, 
by distinguishing the equivocal meaning of the words expressing sensible qualities. If by heat, 
cold, and savour, you understand such and such a disposition of parts, or some unknown motion 
of insensible particles, then fire is hot, grass green, and sugar sweet. But if by heat and other 
qualities you understand what I feel by fire, what I see in grass, &c., fire is not hot, nor grass 
green, for the heat I feel, and the colours I see, are only in the soul.” 

F Dr. Akenside, in one of his notes on his Pleasures of Imagination, observes, that colours, 
os apprehended by the mind, do not exist in the body. By this qualification, he plainly means 
to distinguish what Dr. Reid calls the appearance of colour, from colour considered as a quality 
of matter. 

+ Dr. Reid is of opinion that the vulgar always mean to express by the word colour, a quality, 
and not a sensation. “ Colour,” says he, “ differs from other secondary qualities, in this, that 
whereas the name of the quality is sometimes given to the sensation which indicates it, and is 
occasioned by it, we never, as far as I can judge, give the name of colour to the sensation, but to 
the quality only.” This question is of no consequence for us to discuss at present, as Dr. Reid 
acknowledges in the following passage, that the sensation and quality are so intimately united 
together in°the mind, that they seem to form only one simple object of thought. “When we 
think or speak of any particular colour, however simple the notion may seem to be which is 
presented to the imagination, it is really in some sort compounded; it involves an unknown 
cause and a known effect. The name of colour belongs indeed to the cause only, and not to the 
effect' But as the cause is unknown, we can form no distinct conception of it, but by its 
relation to the known effect. And therefore both go together in the imagination, and are so 
closely united that they are mistaken for one simple object of thought.”—Inquiry into the 
Human Mind on the Principles of Common Sense, chap. vi. sect. 4. edit. 1843. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


570 

A still more striking analogy to the fact under our consideration, occurs in those 
sensations of touch which we refer to a place beyond the limits of the body ; as in the 
case of pain felt in an amputated limb. 

The very intimate combination to which the foregoing observations on the sensations 
of colour relate, is taken notice of by D’Alembert in the Encyclopedic, as one of the 
most curious phenomena of the human mind. 

“ II est tres-evident que le mot couleur ne designe aucune propriety du corps, mais 
seulement une modification de notre ame ; que la blancheur, par example, la l’ou- 
geur, etc. n’existent que dans nous, et nullement dans les corps auxquels nous les 
rapportons ; neanmoins par une habitude prise des notre enfance, c’est une chose tres- 
singuliere et digne de l’attention des metaphysiciens, que ce penchant que nous avons 
a rapporter k une substance materielle et divisible, ce qui appartient reellement a une 
substance spirituelle et simple ; et rien n’est peut-etre plus extraordinaire dans les 
operations de notre ame, que de la voir transporter hors d’elle-meme et etendre, pour 
ainsi dire, ses sensations sur une substance a laquelle elles ne peuvent appartenir.”* 

From the following passage in Condillac’s Traite' des Sensations, it appears that the 
phenomenon here remarked by D’Alembert, was, in Condillac’s opinion, the natural 
and obvious effect of an early and habitual association of ideas. I quote it with the 
greater pleasure, that it contains the happiest illustration I have seen of the doctrine 
which I have been attempting to explain. 

“ On pourroit faire une supposition, ou l’odorat apprendroit a juger parfaitement 
des grandeui’s, des figures, des situations, et des distances. II suffiroit d’un cote de 
soumettre les corpuscules odoriferans aux loix de la dioptrique, et de l’autre, de con- 
struire l’organe de l’odorat a peu pres sur le module de celui de la vue ; ensoi’te que 
les rayons odoriferans, apres s’etre croises a l’ouverture, frappassent sur une mem¬ 
brane interieure autant de points distincts qu’il y en a sur les surfaces d’ou ils seroient 
reflechis. 

“ En pareil cas, nous contracterions bientot, l’habitude d’etendre les odeurs sur les 
objets, et les pliilosophes ne manqueroient pas de dire, que l’odorat n’a pas besoin des 
leQons du toucher pour apercevoir des grandeurs et des figures.”—CEuvres de Con¬ 
dillac, edit. Amst. vol. v. p. 223.f 


Note q, page 185. 

“ Verum quidem est, quod hodierni musici sic loqui soleant, (acutum in alto repu- 
tantes et grave in imo,) quodque ex Grsecis recentioribus nonnulli sic aliquando (sed 
raro) loquuti videantur : apud quos sensim inolevit mos sic loquendi. Sed antiquiores 
Grseci plane contrarium, (grave reputantes in alto et acutum in imo.) Quod etiam ad 
Boethii tempora continuatum est, qui in schematismis suis, grave semper in summo 
ponit, et acutum in imo.”—David Gregory, in Preefat. ad edit, suam Euclid. Op. 
Oxon. 1703. t 


* (t It is very plain that the word colour does not designate any property of body, but merely 
a modification of our mind ; that, for instance, whiteness, redness, exist only in us, and by no 
means in the bodies to which we refer them, by a habit in force from infancy. This propensity 
which we have to refer to a material and divisible substance, that which really appertains to a 
spiritual and simple one, is a circumstance very singular and worthy of the attention of 
metaphysicians; and nothing is perhaps more extraordinary in the operations of our minds 
than to observe them transport themselves out of themselves, and unite their sensations with 
an object to which they cannot belong.” 

f “ We could suppose a case where the sense of smell could form a judgment of size, figure, 
situation, and distance. It -would be sufficient in the first place to subject odoriferous bodies 
to the laws of dioptrics, and then to form the organ of smell nearly on the model of that of 
sight, so that the odoriferous particles, after crossing each other at an orifice, struck on an inner 
membrane as many distinct points as there are on the surfaces from which they are reflected. 
In such a case we would quickly acquire the habit of diffusing smells over objects, and philo¬ 
sophers would not hesitate to say that smells need not the information derived from touch to 
perceive the size and figure.”—Works of Condillac. 

+ “ It is indeed true-that musicians of the present day are accustomed to express themselves 
in this way, considering acute above and grave below, and that some of the later Greeks occa¬ 
sionally, though rarely, express themselves in the same manner, and that the practice at 
length crept on them. But the earlier Greeks used a directly contrary mode of expression 
considering the grave as high, and the acute as low, which was also continued to the time of 
Boethius, who in his scales always places the grave in the highest place, and the acute in the 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


571 

The association to which, in modern times, we are habituated from our infancy, 
between the ideas of acute and high, and between those of grave and low, is accounted 
for by Dr. Smith, in his Harmonics, from the formation of the voice in singing ; which 
Aristides Q,uintilianus thus describes : <( To'erat 5 e tj fiev / lapuTys , KaToodev 

ayacpepop-tvov rov Truev/xaTos, 7 ) 5’ o^vrrjs ennroX-ris npoiep-evov, &c. Et quidem gravitas 
tit, si ex inferiore parte (gutturis) spiritus sursum feratur, acumen vero, si per sum- 
mam partem prorumpat(as Meibomius translates it in his notes.) See Smith’s 
Harmonics, p. 3. 

Dr. Beattie, in his ingenious Essay on Poetry and Music, says it is probable that the 
deepest or gravest souud was called summa by the Romans, and the shrillest or acutest 
una: and he conjectures, that “ this might have been owing to the construction of 
their instruments ; the string that sounded the former being perhaps highest in 
place, and that which sounded the latter lowest.” If this conjecture could be verified, 
it would afford a proof, from the fact, how liable the mind is to be influenced in this 
respect by casual combinations. 

Note r, page 209. 

The difference between the effects of association and of imagination, in the sense in 
which I employ these words, in heightening the pleasure or the pain produced on the 
mind by external objects, will appear from the following remarks : 

1. As far as the association of ideas operates in heightening pleasure or pain, the 
mind is passive : and accordingly where such associations are a source of incon¬ 
venience, they are seldom to be cured by an effort of our volition, or even by reason¬ 
ing ; but by the gradual formation of contrary associations. Imagination is an active 
exertion of the mind ; and although it may often be difficult to restrain it, it is plainly 
distinguishable in theory from the associations now mentioned. 

2. In every case in which the association of ideas operates, it is implied that some 
pleasure or pain is recalled which was felt by the mind before. I visit, for example, 
a scene where I have been once happy ; and the sight of it affects me, on that account, 
with a degree of pleasure which I should not have received from any other scene 
equally beautiful. I shall not inquire, whether, in such cases, the associated pleasure 
arises immediately upon the sight of the object, and without the intervention of any 
train of thought; or whether it is produced by the recollection and conception of 
former occurrences which the perception recalls. On neither supposition does it im¬ 
ply the exercise of that creative power of the mind to which we have given the name 
of Imagination. It is true, that commonly, on such occasions, imagination is busy ; 
and our pleasure is much heightened by the colouring which she gives to the objects 
of memory. l3ut the difference between the effects which arise from the operation of 
this faculty, and those which result from association, is not, on that account, the less 
real. 

The influence of imagination on happiness is chiefly felt by cultivated minds. That 
of association extends to all ranks of men, and furnishes the chief instrument of 
education ; insomuch that whoever has the regulation of the associations of another 
from early infancy, is, to a great degree, the arbiter of his happiness or misery. 

Some very ingenious writers have employed the word association in so extensive a 
sense as to comprehend, not only imagination, but all the other faculties of the mind. 
Wherever the pleasing or the painful effect of an object does not depend solely on the 
object itself, but arises either wholly or in part from some mental operation to which 
the perception of it gives rise, the effect is referred to association. And, undoubtedly, 
this language may be employed with propriety, if the word association be applied to all 
the ideas and feelings which may arise in the mind, in consequence of the exercise 
which the sight of the object may give to the imagination, to the reasoning powers, 
and to the other principles of our nature. But in this work, and particularly in the 
second part of chap, v., I employ the word association in a much more limited sense ; 
to express the effect which an object derives from ideas, or from feelings which it does 
not necessarily suggest, but which it uniformly recalls to the mind, in consequence of 
early and long-continued habits. 

Note s, page 217. 

The following passage from Malebranche will be a sufficient specimen of the com¬ 
mon theories with respect to memory. 

lowest. And, indeed, the grave takes place if from the lower part of the throat the breath be 
directed upwards, but the acute if the breath be sent forth from the upper part.” 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


572 

<c In order to give an explanation of memory, it should be called to mind, that all 
our different perceptions are affixed to the changes which happen to the fibres of the 
principal parts of the brain, wherein the soul particularly resides. 

“ This supposition being laid down, the nature of the memory is explained ; for as 
the branches of a tree, which have continued some time bent after a particular man¬ 
ner, preserve a readiness and facility of being bent afresh in the same manner ; so the 
fibres of the brain, having once received certain impressions from the current of the 
animal spirits, and from the action of the objects upon them, retain for a considerable 
time some facility of receiving the same dispositions. Now the memory consists only 
in that promptness or facility ; since a man thinks upon the same things, whenever 
the brain receives the same impressions.”—Book ii. chap. v. (page 54 of Taylor’s 
Translation.) 

“ The most considerable differences,” says the same author in another passage, 
“ that are found in one aud the same person, during his whole life, are in his infancy, 
in his maturity, and in his old age. The fibres in the brain in a man’s childhood are 
soft, flexible, and delicate ; a riper age dines, hardens, and corroborates them ; but in 
old age they grow altogether inflexible, gross, and intermixed with superfluous 
humours, which the faint and languishing heat of that age is no longer able to dis¬ 
perse : for as we see that the fibres which compose the flesh harden by time, and that 
the flesh of a young partridge is without dispute more tender than that of an old one, 
so the fibres of the brain of a child, or a young person, must be more soft and delicate 
than those of persons more advanced in years. 

“We shall understand the ground and the occasion of these changes, if we consider 
that the fibres are continually agitated by the animal spirits, which whirl about them 
in many different manners : for as the winds parch and dry the earth by their blowing 
upon it, so the animal spirits, by their perpetual agitation, render by degrees the 
greatest part of the fibres of a man’s brain more dry, more close, and solid ; so that 
persons more stricken in age must necessarily have them almost always more inflex¬ 
ible than those of a lesser standing. And as for those of the same age, drunkards, 
who for many years together have drunk to excess either wine, or other such intox¬ 
icating liquors, must needs have them more solid and more inflexible than those who 
have abstained from the use of such kind of liquors all their lives.”—Chap. vi. book ii. 
(page 56 of Taylor’s Translation). 


Note t, page 251. 

“ Though Sir Isaac’s memory was much decayed in the last years of his life, I 
found he perfectly understood his own writings, contrary to what I had frequently 
heard in discourse from many pei’sons. This opinion of theirs might arise, perhaps, 
from his not being always ready at speaking on these subjects, when it might be ex¬ 
pected he should. But as to this it may be observed, that great geniuses are fre¬ 
quently liable to be absent, not only in relation to common life, but with regard to 
some of the parts of science they are the best informed of. Inventors seem to treasure 
up in their minds what they have found out, after another manner than those do the 
same things, who have not this inventive faculty. The former, when they have occa¬ 
sion to produce their knowledge, are, in some measure, obliged immediately to inves¬ 
tigate part of what they want. For this they are not equally fit at all times : so it has 
often happened, that such as retain things chiefly by a very strong memory, have 
appeared off-hand more expert than the discoverers themselves.”—Preface to Pem¬ 
berton’s View of Newton’s Philosophy. 


Note u, page 276. 

“ Going over the theory of virtue in one’s thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine 
pictures of it; this is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of 
it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, 
and render it gradually more insensible ; i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all 
moral obligations. For, from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by 
being repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt 
less sensibly : being accustomed to danger, begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear ; to 
distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of others’ mortality, lessens the sen¬ 
sible apprehension of our own. And from these two observations together, that prac¬ 
tical habits are formed and strengthened by repeated acts; and that passive im- 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


573 

pressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; it must follow, that active habits 
may be gradually forming and strengthening by a course of acting upon such and such 
motives, and excitements, whilst these motives and excitements themselves are, by 
proportionable degrees, growing less sensible, i. e. are continually less and less sensibly 
felt, even as the active, habits strengthen. And experience confirms this : for active 
principles, at the very time they are less lively in perception than they were, are found 
to be, somehow, fought more thoroughly into the temper and character, and become 
more effectual in influencing our practice. The three things just mentioned may afford 
instances of it. Perception of danger is a natural excitement of passive fear and 
active caution : and by being inured to danger, habits of the latter are gradually 
wrought, at the same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception of distress 
in others, is a natural excitement passively to pity, and actively to relieve it; but let 
a man set himself to attend to, inquire out and relieve distressed persons, and he can¬ 
not but grow less and less sensibly affected with the various miseries of life with which 
he must become acquainted ; when yet, at the same time, benevolence, considered not 
as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will strengthen : and whilst he 
passively compassionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively 
to assist and befriend them. So also, at the same time that the daily instances of 
men’s dying around us, give us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehension of 
our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the strengthening a practical 
regard to it in serious men ; i. e. to forming a habit of acting with a constant view to 
it.”—Butler’s Analogy, p. 122, 3rd edition. 


Note x, page 302. 

Of the fault in Euclid’s arrangement which I have here remarked, some of the 
ancient editors were plainly aware, as they removed the two theorems in question from 
the class of axioms, and placed them, with at least an equal impropriety, in that of 
postulates. “In quibusdam codicibus,” says Dr. Gregory, “Axiomata 10 et 11 inter 
postulata numerantur.” (Euclidis quae supersunt omnia. Ex Recens. Dav. Gregorii. 
Oxon. 1703, p. 3.)* 

The 8th Axiom too in Euclid’s enumei’ation is evidently out of its proper place. 
Kat ra e^appoCovra en a\Xrj\a icra aWrjAoLs can :—thus translated by Dr. Simson ; 
“ Magnitudes which coincide with one another, that is, which exactly fill the same space, 
are equal to one another.” This, in truth, is not an axiom, but a definition. It is the 
definition of geometrical equality ;—the fundamental principle upon which the compa¬ 
rison of all geometrical magnitudes will be found ultimately to depend. 

For some of these slight logical defects in the arrangement of Euclid’s definitions 
and axioms, an ingenious, and, I think, a solid apology has been offered by M. Pre'vost, 
in his Essais de Philosophic. According to this author, if I rightly understand his 
meaning, Euclid was himself fully aware of the objections to which this part of his 
work is liable ; but found it impossible to obviate them, without incurring the still 
greater inconvenience of either departing from those modes of proof which he had 
resolved to employ exclusively in the composition of his Elements ;f or of revolting 
the student, at his first outset, by prolix and circuitous demonstrations of manifest and 
indisputable truths.—I shall distinguish by italics, in the following quotation, the 
clauses to which I wish more particularly to direct the attention of my readers. , 

“ C’est done l’imperfection (peut-etre inevitable) de nos conceptions, qui a engage 
a faire entrer les axiomes pour quelque chose dans les principes des sciences de raison- 
nement pur. Et ils y font un double office. Les uns remplacent des definitions ; les 
autres remplacent des propositions susceptibles d’etre de'montrees. J’en donnerai des 
exemples, tires des Elemens d’Euclide. 

“ Les axiomes remplacent quelquefois des definitions tres-faciles a faire, comme celle 
du mot tout. (El. Ax. 9.) D'autres suppleent a certaines definitions dijficiles et qu’on 
evite, commes celles de la ligne droit et de Vangle. 

*< Quelques axiomes remplacent des theoremes. J’ignore si (dans les principes 
d’Euclide) l’axiome 11. peut £tre demontre (comme Pont cru Proclus et tant d’autres 

* “ In some manuscripts the 10th and lltli axioms are enumerated among the postulates.” 
— Euclid’s Works complete, revised by David Gregory. 

'f' By introducing, for example, the idea of motion, which he has studied to avoid, as much 
as possible, in delivering the Elements of Plane Geometry. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


► W 4 

i) l 'T 

anciens et modernes). S’il peut Pitre, cet axiome supplee a une demonstration proba- 
blement laborieuse. 

“ Puisque les axiomes ne font autre office que suppleer a des definitions et a des 
theoremes, on demandera peut-etre qu’on s’en passe. Observons, 1. Qu’ils evitent 
sonvent des longueurs inutiles. 2. Qu’ils tranchent les disputes a l epoque mtme ou 
la science est imparfaite. 3. Que s'il est tin etat auquel la science puisse s en passer 
(ce que je n’affirme point) il est du moins sage, et mime indispensable , de les employer , 
tant que quelque insujfisance, dans ce degre de perfection ou Von tend, interdit un ordre 
absolument irreprochable. Ajoutons, 4. Que dans chaque science il y a ordinairement 
un principe qu’on pourroit appeller dominant, et qui par cette raison seule (et inde- 
pendamment de celles que je viens d’alleguer) a paru devoir etre sorti, pour ainsi dire, 
du champ des definitions pour etre mis en vue sous forme d’axiome. Tel me paroit 
etre en geometrie le principe de congruence contenu dans le 8 Axiome d’Euclide.” 
(Essais de Philosophic, tom. ii. pp. 30—32.)* 

These remarks go far, in my opinion, towards a justification of Euclid for the latitude 
with which he has used the word axiom in his Elements. As in treating, however, of 
the fundamental laws of human belief, the utmost possible precision of language is 
indispensably necessary, I must beg leave once more to remind my readers, that, in 
denying axioms to be the first principles of reasoning in mathematics, I restrict the 
meaning of that word to such as are analogous to the first seven in Euclid’s list. Locke, 
in what he has written on the subject, has plainly understood the word in the same 
limited sense. 


Note y, page 318. 

The prevalence in India of an opinion bearing some resemblance to the Berkeleian 
theory may be urged as an objection to the reasoning in the text; but the fact is, that 
this resemblance is much slighter than has been generally apprehended. (See Philoso¬ 
phical Essays, pp. 81, 82, et seq.^) On this point the following passage from Sir William 
Jones is decisive ; and the more so, that he himself has fallen into the common mistake 
of identifying the Hindu belief with the conclusions of Berkeley and Hume. 

“ The fundamental tenet of the Ved&nti school consisted, not in denying the existence 
of matter, that is, of solidity, impenetrability, and extended figure (to deny which would 
be lunacy), but in correcting the popular notion of it, and in contending that it has 
no essence independent of mental perception ; that existence and perceptibility are 
convertible terms ; that external appearances and sensations are illusory, and would 
vanish into nothing, if the Divine energy, which alone sustains them, were suspended 
but for a moment ;f an opinion, which Epicharmus and Plato seem to have adopted, 


* “ It is the imperfection of our conceptions, and perhaps inevitably so, which has caused the 
axioms to have a place assigned to them among the principles of the sciences of pure reasoning. 
They have there a double import: some of them fill the place of definitions, others of propo¬ 
sitions capable of demonstration. I will give examples drawn from Euclid.—Axioms hold 
the place sometimes of definitions which can be easily made, as that of the word whole 
(El. Ax. 9.). Others supply the place of some definitions difficult to be made, and by that 
means dispense with them, as those of a right line and an angle. Some axioms supply the 
place of theorems. I know not if in the principles of Euclid the 11th axiom can be demon¬ 
strated, as Pappus and so many others, ancients and moderns, have thought. If it can, that 
axiom supplies the place of a proposition which would probably be a laborious one. Since 
axioms are of no use but to supply the place of definitions and theorems, we shall perhaps be 
required to lay them aside. Let us observe, 1st, That they often enable us to avoid unnecessary 
tediousness ; 2nd, That they cut short disputes at a stage when a science is imperfect; 3rd, 
That if there be a stage in which science can dispense with them, (about which I do not decide,) 
it is at least wise and even indispensable to employ them, as long as some deficiency in the 
perfection at which we aim, renders an irreproachable arrangement impracticable ; 4th, In 
every science is a principle which may be called the leading one, and which on that account alone, 
and independently of the reasons just alleged, ought to be withdrawn from the class of 
definitions, and be presented in the form of an axiom. Such appears to me to be the principle 
of coincidence contained in the 8th axiom of Euclid.”—Essays on Philosophy. 

d* Sir "YV illiam Jones here evidently confounds the system which represents the material 
universe as not only at first created, but as every moment upheld by the agency of Divine 
power, with that of Berkeley and Hume, which, denying the distinction between primary and 
secondary qualities, asserts, that extension, figure, and impenetrability are not less inconceiv¬ 
able without a percipient mind, than our sensations of heat and cold, sounds and odours. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


5 75 


and which has been maintained in the present century with great elegance, but with 
little public applause ; partly because it has been misunderstood, and partly because it 
has been misapplied by the false reasoning of some unpopular writers, who are said 
to have disbelieved in the moral attributes of God, whose omnipresence, wisdom, and 
goodness, are the basis of the Indian philosophy. I have not sufficient evidence on 
the subject to profess a belief in the doctrine of the Vedanta, which human reason 
alone could, perhaps, neither fully demonstrate, nor fully disprove; but it is manifest, 
that nothing can be farther removed from impiety than a system wholly built on the 
purest devotion.”—Works of Sir William Jones, vol. i. pp. 165, 166. 

From these observations (in some of which I must be permitted to say, there is a 
good deal of indistinctness, and even of contradiction), it may on the whole be inferred, 
1. That in the tenets of the Vedanti school, however different from the first apprehen¬ 
sions of the unreflecting mind, there was nothing inconsistent with the fundamental 
laws of human belief, any more than in the doctrine of Copernicus concerning the 
earth’s motion. 2. That these tenets were rather articles of a theological creed, than 
of a philosophical system ; or at least, that the two were so blended together, as suffi¬ 
ciently to account for the hold which, independently of any refined reasoning, they had 
taken of the popular belief. 

In this last conclusion I am strongly confirmed, by a letter which I had the pleasure 
of receiving, a few years ago, from my friend Sir James Mackintosh, then recorder of 
Bombay. His good-nature will, I trust, pardon the liberty I take in mentioning his 
name upon the present occasion, as I wish to add to the following very curious extract, 
the authority of so enlightened and philosophical an observer.—Amidst the variety of 
his other important engagements, it is to be hoped that the results of his literary 
researches and speculations, while in the East, will not be lost to the world. 

“ I had yesterday a conversation with a young Brahmin of no great learning, the 
son of the Pundit, or assessor for Hindu law, of my court. He told me that besides 
the myriads of gods whom their creed admits, there was one whom they know by the 
name of Brim, or the great one, without form or limits, whom no created intellect 
could make any approach towards conceiving ; that, in reality, there were no trees, no 
houses, no land, no sea, but all without was Maia, ox* illusion, the act of Biim ; that 
whatever we saw or felt was only a dream, or, as he expressed it in his impeifect 
English, thinking in one’s sleep, and that the reunion of the soul to Brim, from whom 
it originally spi’ung, was the awakening from the long sleep of finite existence. All 
this you have heard and read before as Hindu speculation. What struck me was, that 
speculations so l’efined and abstruse should, in a long course of ages, lia,ve fallen 
through so <n*eat a space as that which separates the genius of their original inventors 
from the mind of this weak and unlettered man. The names of these inventors have 
perished ; but their ingenious and beautiful theories, blended with the most monstrous 
superstitions, have descended to men very little exalted above the most ignorant 
populace and are adopted by them as a sort of articles of faith, without a suspicion ot 
their philosophical origin, and without the possibility of comprehending any part ot 
the premises from which they were deduced. I intend to investigate a little the history 
of these opinions, for I am not altogether without apprehension that we may all the 
while be mistaking the hyperbolical effusions of mystical piety for the technical 
language of a philosophical system. Nothing is more usual than for fervent devotion 
to dwell so long and so warmly on the meanness and worthlessness of created things, 
and on the all-sufficiency of the Supreme Being, that it slides insensibly from com¬ 
parative to absolute language, and, in the eagerness of its zeal to magnify the Deity, 
seems to annihilate everything else. To distinguish between the very different impoit 
of the same words in the mouth of a mystic and of a sceptic, requires more philosophi¬ 
cal discrimination than most of our Sanscrit investigators have hitherto shown. 


Note z, page 324. 

The private coi’respondence hei’e alluded to was between Mr. Hume and the late 
Sir Gilbert Elliot; a gentleman who seems to have united, with liis other well-known 
talents and accomplishments, a taste for abstract disquisitions, which rarely occurs in 
men of the world ; accompanied with that soundness and temperance of judgment 


According to both systems, it may undoubtedly be said, that the material universe # a ® 
existence independent of mind ; but it ought not to be overlooked, that in t ie one, 
refers to the Creator, and in the other, to the created percipient. 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


576 

which, in such researches, are so indispensably necessary to guard the mind against 
the illusions engendered by its own subtility. In one of his letters (of which the 
original draft in his own handwriting was communicated to me by the Earl of Minto) 
he expresses himself thus : * 

. . . “ I admit that there is no writing or talking of any subject which is of 

importance enough to become the object of reasoning, without having recourse to some 
degree of subtility and refinement. The only question is, where to stop, how far we 
can go, and why no farther ? To this question I should be extremely happy to receive 
a satisfactory answer. I can’t tell if I shall rightly express what I have just now in 
my mind ; but I often imagine to myself that I perceive within me a certain instinc¬ 
tive feeling, which shoves away at once all over-subtile refinements, and tells me, with 
authority, that these air-built notions are inconsistent with life and experience, and, 
by consequence, cannot be true or solid. From this I am led to think, that the specu¬ 
lative principles of our nature ought to go hand in hand with the practical ones ; and, 
for my own part, when the former are so far pushed as to leave the latter quite out 
of sight, I am always apt to suspect that w r e have transgressed our limits. If it should 
be asked, how far will these practical principles go ; I can only answer, that the former 
difficulty will recur, unless it be found that there is something in the intellectual part 
of our nature resembling the moral sentiment in the moral part of our nature, which 
determines this, as it were, instinctively. Very possibly I have wrote nonsense : 
however, this notion first occurred to me at London in conversation with a man of 
some depth of thinking ; and talking of it since to your friend Henry Home,f I found 
that he seemed to entertain some notions nearly of the same kind, and to have pushed 
them much farther.” 

The practical principles referred to in this extract, seem to me to correspond very 
nearly with what I have called fundamental laws of belief, or first elements of human 
reason ; and the something in the intellectual part of our nature, resembling the moral 
sentiment in the moral part of our nature, is plainly descriptive of what Reid and 
others have since called common sense ; coinciding, too, in substance with the philo¬ 
sophy of Lord Kames, who refers our belief of the existence of the Deity, and of 
various other primary truths, to particular senses, forming a constituent part of our 
intellectual frame. I do not take upon me to defend the foi'ms of expression which 
Mr. Hume’s very ingenious correspondent has employed to convey his ideas; and 
which, it is pi’obable, he did not think it necessary for him, in addressing a confidential 
friend, to weigh with critical exactness ; but his doctrine must be allowed to approxi¬ 
mate remarkably to those parts of the works of Reid, where he appeals from the 
paradoxical conclusions of metaphysicians to the principles on which men are com¬ 
pelled, by the constitution of their nature, to judge and to act in the ordinary concerns 
of life ; as w r ell as to various appeals of the same kind, which occur in Lord Karnes’s 
writings. My principal object, however, in introducing it here was to show, that this 
doctrine was the natural result of the state of science at the period when Reid ap¬ 
peared ; and, consequently, that no argument against his originality in adopting it can 
be reasonably founded on a coincidence between his views concerning it and those of 
any preceding author. 

Of Mr. Hume’s respect for the literary attainments of this correspondent, so strong 
a proof occurs in a letter, (dated Ninewells, March 10, 1751,) that I am tempted to 
subjoin to the foregoing quotation the passage to which I allude. 

“ You would perceive, by the sample I have given you, that I make Cleanthes the 
hero of the dialogue. Whatever you can think of to strengthen that side of the 
argument, will be most acceptable to me. Any propensity you imagine I have to the 
other side crept in upon me against my will ; and ’tis not long ago that I burned an 
old manuscript-book wrote before I was twenty, which contained, page after page, the 
gradual progress of my thoughts on that head. It began with an anxious search after 
arguments to confirm the common opinion : doubts stole in,—dissipated,—returned,— 
were again dissipated,—returned again : and it was a perpetual struggle of a restless 
imagination against inclination, perhaps against reason. 

“ I have often thought, that the best way of composing a dialogue w'ould be, for two 
persons that are of different opinions about any question of importance, to write 
alternately the different parts of the discourse, and reply to each other. By this means 
that vulgar error would be avoided, of putting nothing but nonsense into the mouth of 
the adversary , and, at the same time, a variety of character and genius being upheld, 


* The letter is dated in 1751. 


+ Afterwards Lord Kames. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


577 

would make the whole look more natural and unaffected. Had it been my good fortune 
to live near you, I should have taken upon me the character of Philo in the dialogue, 
which you’ll own I could have supported naturally enough : and you would not have 
been averse to that of Cleanthes.” 

In a postscript to this letter Mr. Hume recurs to the same idea. “ If you’ll be 
persuaded to assist me in supporting Cleanthes, I fancy you need not take the matter 
any higher than part 3. He allows, iudeed, in part 2, that all our inference is founded 
on the similitude of the works of nature to the usual effects of mind : otherwise they 
must appear a mere chaos. The only difficulty is, why the other dissimilitudes do not 
weaken the argument : and, indeed, it would seem from experience and feeling, that 
they do not weaken it so much as we might reasonably expect. A theory to solve this 
would be very acceptable.”* 

Note a a, page 328. 

It would perhaps be difficult to mention another phrase in our language, which 
admits of so great a variety of interpretations as common sense ; and to which, of 
consequence, it could have been equally dangerous to annex a new technical meaning 
in stating a controversial argument. Dr. Beattie has enumerated some of these in the 
beginning of his Essay, but he has by no means exhausted the subject ; nor is his 
enumeration altogether unexceptionable in point of logical distinctness. On this point, 
however, I must allow my readers to judge for themselves. (See Essay on the Nature 
and Immutability of Truth, pp. 37, et seq. 2nd edit.) 

The Latin phrase sensus communis has also been used with much latitude. In 
various passages of Cicero it may be perfectly translated by the English phrase com¬ 
mon sense ; and, in the same acceptation, it is often employed in modern latinity. Of 
this, not to mention other authorities, many examples occur in the Lectiones Mathe¬ 
matics of Dr. Barrow ; a work not more distinguished by originality and depth of 
thought, than by a logical precision of expression. In one of these, he appeals to 
common sense (sensus communis ,) in proof of the circumference of the circle being 
less than the perimeter of the circumscribed square.—(Lect. i.) 

On other occasions, the sensus communis of classical writers plainly means some¬ 
thing widely different; as in those noted lines of Juvenal, so ingeniously illustrated by 
Lord Shaftesbury, in his Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour. 

u Haoc satis ad juvenem, quem nobis fama superbum 
Tradit, et inflatum, plenumque Nerone propinquo. 

Rarus enini ferme sensus communis in ilia 
Fortuna.”+ 

« Some commentators,” says Shaftesbury, “ interpret this very differently from 
what is generally apprehended. They make this common sense of the poet, by a Greek 
derivation, to signify sense of public weal, and of the common interest ; love of the 
community or society, natural affection, humanity, obligingness, or that sort of civility 
which rises from a just sense of the common rights of mankind, and the natural equality 
there is among those of the same species. 

« And, indeed, if we consider the thing nicely, it must seem somewhat hard in the 
poet to have denied wit or ability to a court such as that of Rome, even under a 
Tiberius or a Nero. But for humanity or sense of public good, and the common interest 
of mankind, ’twas no such deep satire to question whether this was properly the spirit 
of a court. ’Twas difficult to apprehend what community subsisted among courtiers ; 
or what public among an absolute prince and his slave-subjects. And for real society, 
there could be none between such as had no other sense than that of private good. 

« Our poet, therefore, seems not so immoderate in his censure ; if we consider it is 
the heart, rather than the head, he takes to task : when reflecting on a court-education, 
he thinks it unapt to raise any affection towards a country ; and looks upon young 

* From the above quotations it appears that Mr. Hume’s posthumous work entitled Dia¬ 
logues concerning Natural Religion, was projected, and, in part at least, executed twenty-five 
years before his death. 

f “ This for the youth whom rumour brands as vain 
And insolently boastful of his strain. 

Perhaps with truth, for rarely de we see 
A modest sense in those of his degree.” 

p p 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


578 

princes and lords as the young masters of the world ; who, being indulged in all their 
passions, and trained up in all manner of licentiousness, have that thorough contempt 
and disregard of mankind, which mankind in a manner deserves, where arbitrary 
power is permitted, and a tyranny adored.” 

While I entirely agree with the general scope of these observations, I am inclined 
to think that the sensus communis of Juvenal might be still more precisely rendered 
by sympathy ; understanding this word, in the appropriate acceptation annexed to it 
by Mr. Smith, as synonymous with that fellow-feeling which disposes a man, in the 
discharge of his social duties, to place himself in the situation of others, and to regulate 
his conduct accordingly. Upon this supposition, the reflection in question coincides 
nearly with one of Mr. Smith’s own maxims, that “ the great never look upon their 
inferiors as their fellow-creatures (Theory of Moral Sentiments, vol. i. p. 136, 6th 
edit.;) a maxim, which, although sufficiently founded in fact to justify the sarcasm of 
the satirical poet, must (it is to be hoped for the honour of human nature) be under¬ 
stood with considerable limitations, when stated as a correct enunciation of philosophi¬ 
cal truth. 

It yet remains for me to take some notice of the sensus communis of the schoolmen ; 
an expression which is perfectly synonymous with the word conception, as defined in 
the First Part of this work. It denotes the power whereby the mind is enabled to 
represent to itself any absent object of perception, or any sensation which it has 
formerly experienced. Its seat was supposed to be that part of the brain, hence called 
the sensorium, or the sensorium commune, where the nerves, from all the organs of 
perception, terminate. Of the peculiar function allotted to it in the scale of our intel¬ 
lectual faculties, the following account is given by Hobbes. “ Some say the senses 
receive the species of things, and deliver them to the common sense ; and the common 
sense delivers them over to the fancy ; and the fancy to the memory, and the memory 
to the judgment ; like handing of things from one to another, with many words making 
nothing understood.”—Of Man, Part i. chap. ii. 

Sir John Davis, in his poem on the Immortality of the Soul, published in the reign 
of Queen Elizabeth, gives the name of common sense to the power of imagination (see 
sections xix. and xx.) ; and the very same phraseology occurs, at a later period, in 
the Philosophy of Des Cartes : (see, in particular, his Second Meditation, where he 
uses sensus communis as synonymous with Potentia Imaginatrix.) Both of these 
writers, as appears evidently from the context, understand by imagination what I have 
called conception. To the power now denoted by the word imagination, Sir John 
Davis gives the name of fantasy. Gassendi seems disposed to consider this use of the 
phrase sensus communis as an innovation of Des Cartes, (see his Objections to Des 
Cartes’ Second Meditation, sec. 6,) but it had been previously adopted by various philo- 
sopliical writers ; and, in the English schools, was at that time familiar to every ear. 

The singular variety of acceptations of which this phrase is susceptible ; and the 
figure which, on different occasions, it has made in the history of philosophy, will, I 
trust, furnish a sufficient apology for the length as well as for the miscellaneous nature 
of the foregoing remarks.* 


Note b b, page 335. 

The arithmetical prodigy, alluded to in the text, is an American boy, still, I believe, 
in London, of whose astonishing powers in performing, by a mental process, hitherto 
unexplained, the most difficult numerical operations, some accounts have lately appeared 
in various literary journals. When the sheet containing the reference to this note 
was thrown off, I entertained the hope of having an opportunity, before reaching the 
end of the volume, to ascertain, by personal observation, some particulars with respect 
to him, which I thought might throw light on my conclusions concenung the faculty 

* It has been observed to me very lately by a learned and ingenious friend, that in one of 
the phrases which I have proposed to substitute for the common sense of Buffier and Reid 
I have been anticipated, two hundred years ago, by Sir Walter Raleigh. “ Where natural 
reason hath built any thing so strong against itself, as the same reason can hardly assail it, 
much less batter it down; the same, in every question of nature, and infinite power, may be 
approved fora fundamental law of human knowledge.” (Preface to Raleigh’s History of the 
World.) The coincidence in point of expression is not a little curious ; but is much less 
wonderful than the coincidence of the thought with the soundest logical conclusions of the 
eighteenth century. The very eloquent and philosophical passage which immediately follows 
the above sentence, is not less worthy of attention. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


579 


of attention, in the former Part of this work. In this expectation, however. I have 
been disappointed ; and have, therefore, only to apologise for having inadvertently 
excited a curiosity which I am at present unable to gratify. 


Note c c, page 335. 

Since this sheet was cast off, I have been informed, from the best authority that the 
conversation here alluded to, which I had understood to have taken place between 
Lord Chief Justic Mansfield and the late Sir Basil Keith, really passed between his 
lordship and another very distinguished officer, the late gallant and accomplished Sir 
Archibald Campbell. I have not, however, thought it worth while, in consequence of 

a mistake which does not affect the substance of the anecdote, to cancel the leaf_more 

especially, as there is at least a possibility that the same advice may have been given 
on more than one occasion. 

Note d d, page 368. 

E v toutois ?7 i(Tott)s kvoT'f)s, “In mathematical quantities, equality is identity.”_ 

Arist. Met. x. c. 3. J ’ 

This passage has furnished to Dr. Gillies (when treating of the theory of syllogisms) 
the subject of the following comment, in which, if I do not greatly deceive myself, he 
has proceeded upon a total misapprehension of the scope of the original. “ In mathe¬ 
matical quantities, (Aristotle says, that) equality is sameness,” because 6 \oyos 6 rrjs 
7rpurr]s ovaias hs eern. “ The definition of any particular object denoted by the one is 
precisely the same with the definition of any particular object denoted by the other.” 
—Gillies’s Aristotle, vol. i. p. 87. 

In order to enable my readers to form a judgment of the correctness of this para¬ 
phrase, I must quote Aristotle’s words, according to his own arrangemeut, which, in 
this instance, happens to be directly contrary to that adopted by his interpreter. Ei-t 
3e av o \oyos 6 rrjs Trpu}Tr}s dvcrias eis 77 , oiov al icrcu y pap.,uai evdeiai at avrat, Kat ra lira /cat 
ra taoyuvta rtTpayuva, Kat rot tt\€ico‘ aAA’ ev tuvtois tj taor-ps 4vott)s. The first clause of 
this passage is, from its conciseness, obscure ; but Aristotle’s meaning, on the whole, 
seems to be this :—“ That all those magnitudes which bear the same ratio to the same 
magnitude, though in fact they may form a multitude, yet, in a scientific view, they 
may be regarded as one ; the mathematical notion of equality being ultimately resolv¬ 
able into that of unity or identity.” * It was probably to obviate any difficulty that 
might have been suggested by diversities of figure, that Aristotle has confined his 
examples to equal straight lines, and to such quadrangles as are not only equal but 
similar. 

Let us now consider the paraphrase of Dr. Gillies. “ In mathematical quantities, 
equality is sameness, because the definition of any particular object denoted by the 
one, is precisely the same with the definition of any particular object denoted by the 
other.” Are we to understand by this, that u to all things which are equal the same 
definition is applicableor conversely, that “ all things to which the same definition 
is applicable, are equal ?” On the former supposition, it would follow, that the same 
definition is applicable to a circle, and to a triangle having its base equal to the cir¬ 
cumference, and its altitude to the radius. On the latter, that all circles are of the 
same magnitude ; all squares, and all equilateral triangles. There is, indeed, one sense 
wherein those geometrical figures which are called by the same name, all circles for 
example, may be identified in the mind of the logician ; inasmuch as any theorem which 
is proved of one, must equally hold true of all the rest; and the reason of this is 
assigned, with tolerable correctness, in the last clause of the sentence quoted from Dr. 
Gillies. But how this reason bears on the question with respect to the convertibility 
of the terms equality and sameness, I am at a loss to conjecture. 


Note e e, page 390. 

In an Essay on Quantity, by Dr. Reid, published in the Transactions of the Royal 
Society of London, for the year 1748, and afterwards in the 8vo edit, of his works, 
London, 1843, mathematics is very correctly defined to be “the doctrine of measure.” 
* The object of this science,” the author observes, “ is commonly said to be quantity ; 

* Ta 7r pos to avro rov avrov *x ovTa \oyov, tcra aWriXots eart. —Euc. Elem. lib. v. 
Prop. ix. [Things which have the same proportion to one and the same thing are equal to 
each other.] 


y 


v p 2 



580 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


in which case, quantity ought to be defined, what may be measured. Those who have 
defined quantity to be whatever is capable of more or less, have given too wide a 
notion of it, which has led some persons to apply mathematical reasoning to subjects 
that do not admit of it.” * The appropriate objects of this science are therefore such 
things alone as admit not only of being increased and diminished, but of being multi¬ 
plied and divided. In other words, the common quality which characterizes all of them 
is their mensurability. 

In the same essay, Dr. Reid has illustrated with much ingenuity a distinction 
(hinted at by A ristotle f) of quantity into proper and improper. “ I call that,” says 
he, “ proper quantity, which is measured by its own kind; or which, of its own 
nature, is capable of being doubled or trebled, without taking in any quantity of a 
different kind as a measure of it. Thus a line is measured by known lines, as inches, 
feet, or miles; and the length of a foot being known, there can be no question about 
the length of two feet, or of any part or multiple of a foot. This known length, by being 
multiplied or divided, is sufficient to give us a distinct idea of any length whatsoever. 

“ Improper quantity is that which cannot be measured by its own kind, but to which 
we assign a measure in some proper quantity that is related to it. Thus velocity of 
motion, when we consider it by itself, cannot be measured. We may perceive one 
body to move faster, another slower, but we can perceive no proportion or ratio be¬ 
tween their velocities, without taking in some quantity of another kind to measure 
them by. Having therefore observed, that by a greater velocity a greater space is 
passed over in the same time, by a less velocity a less space, and by an equal velocity 
an equal space ; we hence learn to measure velocity by the space passed over in a 
given time, and to reckon it to be in exact proportion to that; and having once 
assigned this measure to it, we can then, and not till then, conceive one velocity 
exactly double, or triple, or in any proportion to another. We can then introduce it 
into mathematical reasoning, without danger of error or confusion ; and may use it as 
a measure of other impi’oper quantities. 

“ All the proper quantities we know may, I think, be reduced to these four : exten¬ 
sion, duration, number, and proportion. 

“Velocity, the quantity of motion, density, elasticity, the vis insita and impressa, 
the various kinds of centripetal forces, and the different orders of fluxions, are all im¬ 
proper quantities ; which, therefore, ought not to be admitted into mathematical 
reasoning, without having a measure of them assigned. 

“ The measure of an improper quantity ought always to be included in the definition 
of it; for it is the giving it a measure that makes it a proper subject of mathematical 
reasoning. If all mathematicians had considered this as carefully as Sir Isaac Newton 
has done, some trouble had been saved both to themselves and" their readei’s. That 
great man, whose clear and comprehensive understanding appears even in his defini¬ 
tions, having frequent occasion to treat of such improper quantities, never fails to 
define them, so as to give a measure of them, either in proper quantities, or such as 
had a known measure. See the definitions prefixed to his Principia.” 

With these important remarks I entirely agree, excepting only the enumeration here 
given of the different kinds of proper quantity, which is liable" to obvious and insur¬ 
mountable objections. It appears to me that, according to Reid’s own definition, 
extension is the only proper quantity within the circle of our knowledge. Duration is 
manifestly not measured by duration, in the same manner as a line is measured by a 
line ; but by some regulated motion, as that of the hand of a clock, or of the shadow 
on a sun-dial. In this respect it is precisely on the same footing with velocities and 
forces, all of them being measured, in the last result, by extension. As to number 
and proportion, it might be easily shown that neither of them falls under the definition 
of quantity, in any sense of that word. In proof of this assertion, which may at first 
sight seem somewhat paradoxical, I have only to refer to the mathematical lectures of 
Dr. Barrow, and to some very judicious observations introduced by Dr. Clarke in his 
controversy with Leibnitz. It is remarkable that, at the period when this essay was 

* In this remark, Dr. Reid, as appears from the title of his paper, had an eye to the abuse 
of mathematical language by Dr. Hutcheson, who had recently carried it so far as to exhibit 
algebraical formulas for ascertaining the moral merit or demerit of particular actions.—See his 
Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue. 

•j- Ki ipLoos Se Iloo-a ravra Aeyerai p.ova , t a Se aAAa Tvavra Kara (Tv/jL^e^Kos' eis ravra 
yap airofiAeTTOvres, nai ra aAAa Tloaa Atyopiej /.— Arist. Categ. cap. vi. 17. [But properly 
those things only are termed quantities, but all other things are by the accident ; for with 
reference to these, we call other things also quantities.—Aristotle’s Categories.] 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 581 

written, Dr. Reid should have been unacquainted with the speculations of these illus¬ 
trious men on the same subject; but this detracts little from the merits of his memoir, 
which rest chiefly on the strictures it contains on the controversy between the New¬ 
tonians and Leibnitzians concerning the measure of forces. 

Note ff, page 391 . 

Ihe following view of the relation between the theorems of pure geometry and their 
practical applications, strikes me as singularly happy and luminous ; more especially 
the ingenious illustrations borrowed from the science of geometry itself. 

“ Les verites que la geometrie demontre sur l’etendue, sont des verites purement 
hypothetiques. Ces verites cependant n'en sont moins utiles, eu egard aux conse¬ 
quences pratiques qui en resultent. II est aise de le faire sentir par une comparaison 
tiree de la geometrie meme. On ne connoit dans cette science des lignes courbes qui 
doivent s’approcher continuellement d’une ligne droite, sans la rencontrer jamais, et qui 
neanmoins, etant trac^es sur le papier se confondent sensiblement avec cette ligne 
droite au bout d’un assez petit espace. II en est de mdme des propositions de geo¬ 
metrie ; elles sont la limite intellectuelle des verites physiques, le terme dont celles-ci 
peuvent approclier aussi pres qu’on le desire, sans jamais y arriver exactement. Mais 
si les theoremes mathematiques n’ont pas rigoreusement lieu dans la nature, ils 
servent du moins a resoudre, avec une precision sufflsante pour la pratique, les 
differentes questions qu’on peut se proposer sur l’etendue. Dans l’univers il n’y a 
point de cercle parfait; mais plus un cercle approchera de l’etre, plus il approchera 
des propriety rigoreuses du cercle parfait que la geometrie demontre; et il peut en 
approcher a un degre suffisant pour notre usage. Il en est de meme des autres figures 
dont la geometrie detaille les proprietes. Pour demontrer en toute rigeur les verites 
relatives a la figure des corps, on est oblige de supposer dans cette figure une perfection 
arbitraire qui n’y sauroit dtre. En effet, si le cercle, par exemple, n’est pas supposd 
rigoureux, il faudra autant de theoremes differens sur le cercle qu’on imaginera de 
figures differentes plus ou moins approchantes du cercle parfait ; et ces figures elles- 
meraes pourront encore etre absolument hypothetiques, et n’avoir point de modele 
existant dans la nature. Les lignes qu'on considere dans la geometrie usuelle, ne sont 
rii pavfaitement droites, ni parfaitement courbes ; les surfaces ne sont ni parfaitement 
planes, ni parfaitement curvilignes ; mais il est necessaire de les supposer tel les, pour 
arriver a des verites fixes et determinees, dont on puisse faire ensuite l’application 
plus ou moins exacte aux lignes et aux surfaces physiques.”—D’Alembert, Elemens 
de Philosophic, article Geometrie.* 

Note gg, page 401. 

From some expressions in this quotation, it would seem that the writer considered 


* “ The truths which geometry demonstrates respecting extension are purely hypothetical. 
These truths still are not the less useful with regard to the practical consequences which result 
from them : it is easy to show this by a comparison drawn from geometry itself. In that 
science, we know curves which must continually approach a right line without ever meeting it, 
and which, nevertheless, if drawn on paper, are at a very short distance confounded with that 
line. It is the same with geometrical propositions: they are the intellectual limit of physical 
truths, which they can approach as closely as we wish, without ever exactly reaching them. 
But if mathematical theorems have not strictly a place in nature, they serve, at least with suf¬ 
ficient practical accuracy, to solve the different questions which we can propose regarding 
extension. There is nowhere a perfect circle in existence ; hut the nearer a circle approaches 
to being so, the nearer will it approach the strict properties of a perfect circle, as demonstrated 
by geometry, and can approach it to a degree sufficient for our purpose. The same holds of 
other figures of which geometry demonstrates the properties. To demonstrate rigorously the 
truths relative to the shape of bodies, we are obliged to suppose in that shape an arbitrary 
perfection which it cannot have. In fact, if the circle be not considered an accurate one, there 
will be need of as many different theorems concerning the circle, as we can conceive different 
figures more or less approaching a perfect circle ; and these figures themselves may still be 
merely hypothetical, and have no model existing in nature. The lines which we consider in 
common geometry are not perfectly straight, nor perfectly curved : the surfaces are not perfectly 
plain, nor perfectly curvilinear; but it is necessary to suppose them such to arrive at fixed 
and determinate truths, which w r e can afterwards apply, more or less exactly, to lines and sur¬ 
faces as they exist in nature.”—D’Alembert’s Elements of Philosophy, article Geometry, 





582 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


it as now established by mathematical demonstration, not only that a provision is made 
for maintaining the order and the stability of the solar system ; but that, after certain 
periods, all the changes, arising from the mutual actions of the planets, begin again to 
be repeated over in an invariable and eternal round ;—or rather, that all this is the 
result of the necessary properties of matter and of motion. The truth is, that this 
assumption is quite unfounded, in point of fact; and that the astronomical discovery 
iu question affords not the slightest analogical presumption in favour of a moral cycle ; 
—even on the supposition that the actions of the human race, and the motions of the 
globes which they inhabit, were both equally subjected to the laws of mechanism. 

I shall avail myself of this opportunity to remark further, that notwithstanding the 
lustre thrown by the result of La Grange’s investigations on the metaphysical reason¬ 
ing of Leibnitz against the manus emendatrix of Newton,—this reasoning, when we 
consider the vagueness of the abstract principles on which it rests, can be regarded in 
no other light than as a fortunate conjecture on a subject where he had neither expe¬ 
rience nor analogy for a guide. The following argument is not ill stated by Voltaire ; 
and, in my opinion, is more plausible than anything alleged a priori , on the other side 
of the question, by Leibnitz. “ II est trop clair par l’experience que Dieu a fait des 
machines pour etre detruites. Nous sommes l’ouvrage de sagesse ; et nous perissons. 
Pourquoi n’en serait-il pas de meme du monde ? Leibnitz veut que ce monde soit par- 
fait; mais si Dieu ne l’a forme que pour durer un certain terns, sa perfection consist® 
alors a ne durer que jusqu’a l’instant fixe pour sa dissolution.” *—Voltaire’s Account 
of Newton’s Philosophy. 

For some excellent observations on these opposite conjectures of Leibnitz and of 
Newton, see Edinburgh Review, vol. xiv. pp. 80, 81. 

The quotation which gave occasion to the foregoing strictures induces me to add, 
before concluding this note, that when we speak of La Grange’s Demonstration of the 
stability of the solar system, it is by no means to be understood that he has proved, by 
mathematical reasoning, that this system never will, nor ever can, come to an end. 
The amount of his truly sublime discovery is, that the system does not, as Newton 
imagined, contain within itself, like the workmanship of mortal hands, the elements of 
its own decay ; and that, therefore, its final dissolution is to be looked for, not from 
the operation of physical causes subjected to the calculations of astronomers, but from 
the will of that Almighty Being, by whose fiat it was at first called into existence. 
That this stability is a necessary consequence of the general laws by which we find the 
system to be governed, may, indeed, be assumed as a demonstrated proposition ; but it 
must always be remembered, that this necessity is only hypothetical or conditional, 
being itself dependent on the continuance of laws which may at pleasure be altered or 
suspended. 

The whole of the argument in the text, on the permanence or stability of the order 
of nature, is manifestly to be understood with similar restrictions. It relates, not to 
necessary but to probable truths ; not to conclusions syllogistically deduced from 
abstract principles, but to future contingencies, which we are determined to expect 
by a fundamental law of belief, adapted to the present scene of our speculations and 
actions. 


Note h h, page 404. 

“ The power of designating an individual object by an appropriate articulation, is a 
necessary step in the formation of language, but very far removed indeed from its 
consummation. Without the use of general signs, the speech of man would differ 
little from that of brutes; and the transition to the general term from the name of 
the individual is a difficulty' which remains still to be surmounted. Condillac, indeed, 
proposes to show how this ti’ansition may be made in the natural course of things. 
‘ Un enfant appelle du nom d’arbre le premier arbre que nous lui montrons. Un 
second arbre qu’il voit ensuite lui rappelle la meme idee; il lui donne le meme nom ; 
de meme a un troisieme, <\ un quatrieme, et voila le mot d’arbre, donne' d’abord a un 
individu, qui devient pour lui un nom de classe ou de genre, une ide'e abstraite qui 
comprend tous les arbres en general.’ + In like maimer, Mr. Adam Smith, in his 

* “ It is too clear from experience, that God has made machines to destroy them. We 
are the work of wisdom, yet we perish. Why should it not be the same with the world ? 
Leibnitz maintains that the world is perfect; but if God has formed it only to last for a certain 
. period, its perfection then consists in lasting no longer than just the moment fixed for its 
dissolution.” 

t “ A child calls by the name of tree the first tree which we show it. A second tree that 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


58 3 

‘ Dissertation on the Origin of Languages,’ and Mr. Dugald Stewart, in his * * Elements 
of the Philosophy of the Human Mind,’ endeavour to explain this process, by repre¬ 
senting those words which were originally used as the proper names of individuals, to 
be successively transferred to other individuals, until at length each of them became 
insensibly the common name of a multitude. This, however, is more ingenious than 
solid. The name given to an individual, being intended exclusively to designate that 
individual, it is a direct subversion of its very nature and design to apply it to any 
other individual, known to be different from the former. The child, it is true, may 
give the name of father to an individual like to the person it has been taught to call 
by that name : but this is from mistake, not from design; from a confusion of the two 
as the same person, and not from a perception of resemblance between them, whilst 
known to be different. In truth, they whose thoughts are occupied solely about indi¬ 
vidual objects, must be the more careful to distinguish them from each other : and 
accordingly, the child will most peremptorily retract the appellation of father, so soon 
as the distinctness is observed.* The object with those whose terms or signs refer 
only to individuals, must naturally be to take care that every such term or sign shall 
be applied to its appropriate individual, and to none else. Resemblance can produce 
no other effect than to enforce a greater caution in the application of the particular 
names, and therefore has no natural tendency to lead the mind to the use of general 
terms.”—Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement and 
Sacrifice. By William Magee, D.D. Senior Fellow of Trinity College, and Professor 
of Mathematics in the University of Dublin. Vol. ii. pp. 63, 64. 3d edit. 

The observations in pp. 402, 403, &c. of this volume, to which I must request the 
attention of my readers before they proceed to the following remarks, appear to me to 
weaken considerably the force of this reasoning, as far as it applies to the substance 
of the theory in question. With respect to Mr. Smith’s illustration, drawn from the 
accident of a child’s calling a stranger by the name of father, I readily acknowledge 
that it was unluckily choseu ; and I perfectly assent to the strictures bestowed on it by 
Dr. Magee. In consequence of the habitual intercourse which this domestic relation 
naturally keeps up between the parties, the mistake of the child, as Dr. Magee very 
properly calls it, must, of course, be immediately corrected ; and therefore, the 
example is of no use whatever in confirming the conclusion it is brought to support. 
It is to be regretted that, upon this occasion, Mr. Smith should not only have appealed 
to a period of infancy, when the notions of similarity and of identity cannot fail to be 
sometimes one and the same; but should have assumed, as a general fact, an accidental 
occurrence, which, if it ever has happened, may be justly regarded as an exception to 
the usual history of the species. While yet on the breast, a child is able to distinguish, 
with the utmost quickness and accuracy, between the face of an acquaintance and that 
of a stranger ; and, when it is so far advanced as to begin to utter articulate sounds, 
any tendency to transfer or to generalize the words mother or nurse seems scarcely 
conceivable. We are apt to suppose that the first attempts towards speech are coeval 
with the study of language ; whereas the fact manifestly is, that these attempts are only 
the consequences of the progress previously and silently made in the interpretation of 
words. Long before this time, many of the logical difficulties which appear so puzzling 
to the speculative grammarian, have been completely surmounted.f" 


it afterwards sees recalls the same idea ; the same happens with a third and fourth ; so that the 
word tree, given at first to an individual, becomes for the child a name for a class or genus, an 
abstract idea which comprehends all trees in general.” 

* These remarks have a particular reference to the following sentence in Mr. Smith’s Dis¬ 
sertation : “ A child that is just learning to speak calls every person who comes to the house 
its papa or its mama; and thus bestows upon the whole species those names which it had been 
taught to apply to two individuals.” 

f The general fact with respect to children, assumed by Mr. Smith in the foregoing note, is 
stated still more strongly by Aristotle. Both of these philosophers have, I suspect, trusted 
more in this instance to theory than to observation. Kat to tt aitiia to p.€v irpurou irpoaa- 
yopevei iravras rovs avtipos, iraTepas' kcu /irjTepas, ras yvvainas’ varepov Se 8iopc£ei tovtqw 
eKarepov. “ Ac pueri quoque primum omnes viros appellant patres, et omnes mulieres, 
mat res i postea vero discernunt horum utrumque. Arist. Nat. Ausc. lib. j. cap. i. £And 
children also at first call all men father, and all women mother, but afterwards distinguish each.] 

This passage, which I do not recollect to have seen quoted by any former writer, does 
honour to Aristotle’s acuteness. The fact, indeed, asserted in it is more than questionable ; 
but, admitting the fact to be true, it must be owned that Aristotle has viewed it in a juster 
light than Mr. Smith ;—not as an instance of any disposition to generalize proper names, but 
merely of imperfect and undistinguishing perception. 



584 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


But although this particular example has been ill chosen, it does not therefore 
follow that the author’s theory is altogether unfounded. Whoever has paid any atten¬ 
tion to the phenomena of the infant mind, must be satisfied of its strong bias, in the 
first development of the intellectual powers, to apply to similar objects a common 
name, without ever thinking of confounding them together. Nor does this hold merely 
with respect to similar objects : it holds also, and at a surprisingly early period of life, 
with respect to similar relations. A child who has been accustomed to the constant 
attentions and caresses of its mother, when it sees another child in the arms of its 
nurse, will naturally and infallibly call the nurse the child’s mother. In this instance, 
as in numberless others, its error arises from generalizing too hastily ; the distinction 
between the meanings of the two relative words mother and nurse being too complex 
to be comprehended, till the power of observation begins to be exercised with some 
degree of attention and accuracy. This disposition, however, to ti'ansfer names from 
one thing to another, the diversity of which is obvious even to sense, certainly affords 
no inconsiderable an argument in favour of the opinion disputed by Dr. Magee. 

It is, indeed, wonderful, how readily children transfer or generalize the name of the 
maternal relation, that which of all others must necessarily impress their minds most 
strongly, not only in the case of their own species, but of the lower animals ; applying, 
with little or no aid from instruction, the word mother to the hen, the sheep, or the 
cow, whom they see employed in nurturing and cherishing their young. 

To myself, 1 own, it appears that the theory of Condillac and Smith on this point, is 
confirmed by every thing I have been able to observe of children. Even generic 
terms will be found, on examination, if I be not much deceived, to be originally under¬ 
stood by them merely as proper names ; insomuch that the notions annexed by an 
infant to the words denoting the different articles of its nursery-lurniture, or the little 
toys collected for its amusement, are, in its conceptions, as individually and exclusively 
appropriated, as the names of its father, mother, or nurse. If this observation be 
well-founded, the same gradual conversion of proper names into appellatives, which 
Mr. Smith supposes to have taken place in the formation of a language, is exemplified 
in the history of every infant while learning to interpret its mother-tongue. The case 
is nearly the same with the peasant, who has never seen but one town, one lake, or 
one river. All of these appellatives are to his ear precisely equivalent to so many 
proper names. 

“ Quo te, Mceri, pedes? An, quo viaducit, in urbeni? 

That resemblance is one of our most powerful associating principles will not be dis¬ 
puted ; and that, even in the maturity of our reason, we have a natural disposition to 
generalize the meaning of signs, in consequence of apprehended similarities, both of 
things and of relations, is equally certain. Why then should it be apprehended, that 
there is any peculiar mystery connected with this step in the commencement of the 
progress, when it seems to admit of an explanation so satisfactory, from a law of the 
human mind, exemplified daily in facts falling within the circle of our own experience ? 


Note i i, page 418. 

“ Artstotle’s rules are illustrated, or rather, in my opinion, purposely darkened, 
by putting letters of the alphabet for the several terms.”—(Reid’s Analysis of Aris¬ 
totle’s Logic, —to be found in the 8vo edit, of his works, London, 1843. 

On this remark the following criticism has been made by Dr. Gillies. 

“ In the first analytics, Aristotle shows what is that arrangement of terms in each 
proposition, and that arrangement of propositions in each syllogism, which constitutes 
a necessary connexion between the premises and the conclusion. When this connexion 
takes place, the syllogism is perfect in point of form ; and when the form is perfect, the 
conclusion necessarily follows from the premises, whatever be the signification of the 
terms of which they are composed. These terms, therefore, he commonly expresses 
by the letters of the alphabet, for the purpose of showing that our assent to the con¬ 
clusion results, not from comparing the things signified, but merely from considering 
the relation which the signs (whether w r ords or letters) bear to each other. Those, 
therefore, totally misconceive the meaning of Aristotle’s logic, who think that by 
employing letters instead of w'ords, he has darkened the subject ; since the more 
abstract and general his signs are, they must be the better adapted to show that the 


* “ Whither, Mceris, do your feet conduct you ? whither the way does, to the city ? ” 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


585 

inference results from considering them alone, without at all regarding the things 
which they signify.” * 

With the doctrine stated in the beginning of this extract I entirely agree. It coin¬ 
cides indeed remarkably with a passage in the first Part of this work, where I have 
shown, at some length, that our assent to the conclusion of a legitimate syllogism 
results, not from comparing the things signified, but merely from considering the rela¬ 
tions of the signs ; and, consequently, that letters of the alphabet might be substituted 
instead of verbal terms, without impairing the force of the argument. The observation 
appears to myself of considerable importance, when connected with the fundamental 
question there discussed, concerning the use of language as an instrument of thought ; 
but, I own, I am at a loss to conceive how it should have been supposed to bear on the 
present subject. The only point at issue between Dr. Gillies and Dr. Reid is, whether 
the use of letters instead of words be, or be not, a useful expedient for facilitating the 
study of logic ; and upon this, I apprehend, there can scarcely exist a diversity of 
opinion. No instance, I will venture to affirm, ever occurred of any hesitation in the 
mind of the merest novice about the conclusiveness of a legitimate syllogism, when 
illustrated by an example ; but how difficult to explain to a person altogether unac¬ 
customed to scholastic abstractions, the import and cogency of those symbolical demon¬ 
strations by which Aristotle has attempted to fortify the syllogistic theory ! 

The partiality of Dr. Gillies for this technical device has probably arisen, in part, 
from his supposing it to bear a much closer analogy than it does, in fact, to the alge¬ 
braical art. Another very learned writer has proceeded on the same idea, when he 
observes, that “ it should recommend the study of logic to mathematicians, that, in 
order to make his demonstrations universal, Aristotle uses letters as universal charac¬ 
ters, standing for all kinds of terms or propositions.” (Ancient Metaphysics, vol. iii. 
p. 51 of the Preface.) It would be an idle waste of words to show how very slight this 
analogy is, and how totally inapplicable to the question before us ;—amounting to 
little more than this, that, in both cases, the alphabet happens to be employed as a 
substitute for common language. An analogy', much more in point, may be traced in 
the practice of designating by letters the different parties in a hypothetical law-suit ;— 
a practice attended with no inconvenience, where these symbols only supply the place 
of proper names ; but which would at once convert the simplest case into an seuigma, 
if they were to be employed, as they are by Aristotle, to denote, not merely individual 
existences, but the relations of general ideas. 

While Dr. Gillies has thus exerted his ingenuity in defending the use made by Aris¬ 
totle of letters instead of words, it is to be regretted, that he has said nothing about 
the motives which induced that philosopher, in disproving the illegitimate modes, to 
eonteut himself with general references to such words as bonum, habitus, prudentia, 
upon which the student is left to his own judgment, in ringing the various changes 
necessary for the illustration of the theory. A more effectual contrivance could not 
easily have been thought of, for perplexing a subject, level, in itself, to the meanest 
capacity. In this respect, it answers the intended purpose still better than his alpha¬ 
betical formulae. 


Note kk, page 438. 

As instances of what are called by logicians fallaciae in dictione, a modern writer 
mentions the mistakes which may arise from confounding “ liber Bacchus, et liber a 
servitute ; liber codex, et liber cortex ; crevi a cerno, et crevi a cresco ; infractus 
participium ab infringo, et infractus compositum ab in et fractus, sensu plane, con- 
trario.”* He mentions also the danger of confounding the literal with the figurative 
sense of a word, as vulpes when applied to a quadruped, and to a man noted for cun¬ 
ning_ “ Sic siquis arguat,” he adds, for the sake of illustration, “ stellam altrare, quia 

Stella qumdam Canis dicitur, facile respondebitur captiosp argumento, distinguendo 
varios sensus ejusdem vocis, indeque, ostendendo syllogismi quatuor terminos, (si sen- 
sum spectes,) ubi tres saltuni sono comparent.”* 

* Analysis of Aristotle’s Speculative Works, &c., by Dr. Gillies, vol. i. p. 89, 2nd edit. 

From a note at tho foot of the page it appears, that the remarks just quoted from Reid gave 
occasion to the above strictures. 

+ Fallacies in expression.—“ Liber, signifying Bacchus; and liber, free from slavery; 
liber, a book ; and liber, bark : crevi from cerno, and crevi from cresco, infractus, a participle, 
from infringo, and infractus compounded from in and fractus, having a quite contrary meaning.’ 

+ “ If any one should argue that a star barks, because a certain star is called Dog, an easy 
answer can be given to this captious argument, by distinguishing the various meanings of the 




586 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


To exemplify the fallacia accentus, the same writer warns us against confounding 
hortus and ortus ; liara and ara ; malum adjectivum, and malum pro pomo ; cervus 
and servus ; concilium and consilium, &c., &c.* * * * § The remedy against such fallacies, 
he gravely tells us, is to distinguish the words thus identified, so as to show that the 
syllogism consists of more than three terms. w Solvuntur distinguendo ea quse confun- 
duntur, indeque monstrando pluralitatem terminorum.”f He acknowledges, however, 
that fallacies of this sort are not likely to impose on a skilful logician. “ Sed crassiores 
sunt hse fallacite quam ut perito important.”:}: 

I have purposely quoted these remarks, not from a mere schoolman, hut from an 
author justly distinguished both by science and learning, Dr. Wallis of Oxford. They 
are taken, too, from a treatise written with the express view of adapting the logic 
commonly taught in our universities to the ordinary business of life ; having a formal 
dedication prefixed to it, to the Royal Society of London, then recently instituted. The 
subject is the same with that of the third book of Locke’s Essay, relating to the abuse 
of words ; and the interval between the two publications was only two years. Yet how 
immense the space by which they are separated in the history of the human mind ! 

The concluding paragraph, however, of this very puerile chapter on sophisms, bears 
marks of a mind fitted for higher undertakings. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of 
transci’ibing it, and of pointing it out to those who may hereafter speculate upon the 
theory of wit, as not unworthy of their attention. 

“ Interim hie monendum duco ; quod hse fallacise, utcunque justam argumenti vim 
non liabeant, apprime tamen commodce sunt ad id orane quod ingeniosum vulgo dici- 
mus : Ut sunt joci, facetiae, dicteria, scommata, sarcasmi, retorsiones lepidse (wit, 
raillery, repartee). Quippe hoc orane fundari solet in liujusmodi fallaciarum aliqua. 
Nonnunquam allusio fit ad verborum sonos ; nunc ad ambiguara vocum significa- 
tionern ; nunc ad dubiam syntaxin ; nunc proverbialiter dici solita accommodantur 
sensu proprio, aut vice versa : nunc aliud aperte dicitur, aliud clam insinuatur ; 
saltern oblique insinuatur; quod non erat directo dicendum ; nunc verba contrario 
sensu captantur, et retorquentur ; nunc verisimile insinuatur ut verum, saltern ut 
suspectum ; nunc de uno dicitur, quod mutato nomine, de alio intellectum vellent; 
nunc ironice laudando vituperant ; nunc objecta spicula, respondendo declinantur, aut 
etiam (obliquata) alio diriguntur, forte sic ut auctorem feriant ; et fere semper ex 
ambiguo luditur. Quse quidem fallaciarum formulse, si frigidoe sint crassseque, riden- 
tur ; si subtiliores arrident ; si acutse, titillant; si aculeatse, pungunt.”§ 

Note l l, page 450. 

In the first Part of these Elements I have endeavoured to trace the origin of that 
bias of the imagination which has led men, in all ages of the world, to consider physi¬ 
cal causes and effects as a series of successive events necessarily connected together, 
like the links of a metallic chain. (See chap. i. sect. 2.) So very strong is this bias, 
that, even in the present times, some of the most sagacious and cautious of Bacon’s 

same word, and thence showing that there are, if we look to the meaning, four terms of the 
syllogism, where there should be only three.” 

* “ Hortus (a garden), ortus sprung, malum (evil) an adjective, and malum an apple, cer¬ 
vus (a stag), and servus a slave, concilium (a council), and consilium (a counsel).” 

f “ They are done away with by discriminating between the things which are confounded, 
and thence shewing that there are too many terms.” 

f “ But these fallacies are too gross to impose on a skilful person.” 

§ “ Here, however, I think it proper to remark, that these fallacies, although they have not 
the genuine force of an argument, are very apt for all things which we familiarly style ingenious: 
as jokes, jests, smart sayings, taunts, sarcasms, repartee ; for all these depend on some of these 
fallacies. Sometimes the allusion is made to the sound of words, sometimes to the ambiguous 
signification of words, sometimes to doubtful syntax. Sometimes things having a certain sense 
proverbially are assigned a peculiar sense, or vice versa; at another time, one thing is stated 
openly, another covertly insinuated, or at least it is obliquely insinuated, which was not to 
he said directly : then again, words are tortured and twisted in contrary senses; at another 
time, what is probable is put forward as true, at least as taken for granted : then again, that 
is said of one which, changing the name, they wish to be understood of another; then they 
calumniate, by praising ironically ; then the shafts of attack are avoided in answering, or made 
to glance off in another direction, so that perhaps they wound those who use them, and there 
is often a sportive ambiguity. Which sorts of fallacies, if they be frigid and gross are ridiculed ; 
if refined, give pleasure; if acute, amuse ; if severe, wound.” 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 587 

followers occasionally show a disposition to relapse into the figurative language of the 
multitude. “ The chain of natural causes,” says Dr. Reid, «has, not unfitly, been 
compared to a chain hanging down from heaven : A link that is discovered supports 
the links below it, but it must itself be supported, and that which supports it must be 
supported, until we come to the first link, which is supported by the throne of the 
Almighty.” (Intellectual Powers, Essay ii. chap. vi. § iii.—edit. 1843.) It is difficult to 
reconcile the approbation here bestowed on the above similitude, with the excellent 
and profound remarks on the relation of cause and effect, which occur in other parts 
of Dr. Reid’s works. (See Essays on the Active Powers, p. 44, and pp. 286—288. 
4to. edit.) 

Mr. Maclaurin, in the concluding chapter of his Account of Newton’s Discoveries, 
has still more explicitly lent the sanction of his name to this idea of a chain of second 
causes. “ As we cannot but conceive the universe as depending on the First Cause and 
chief mover, whom it would be absurd, not to say impious, to exclude from acting in 
it; so we have some hints of the manner in which he operates in nature, from the laws 
which we find established in it. Though he is the source of all efficacy, yet we find 
that place is left for second causes, to act in subordination to him; and mechanism 
has its share in carrying on the great scheme of nature. The establishing the equality 
of action and reaction, -even in those powers which seem to surpass mechanism, and to 
be more immediately derived from him, seems to be an indication that those powers, 
while they derive their efficacy from him, are, however, in a certain degree, circum¬ 
scribed and regulated in their operations by mechanical principles ; and that they are 
not to be considered as mere immediate volitions of his, (as they are often repre¬ 
sented,) but rather as instruments made by him, to perform the purposes for which he 
intended them. If, for example, the most noble phenomena in nature be produced by 
a rare elastic ethereal medium, as Sir Isaac Newton conjectured, the whole efficacy of 
this medium must be resolved into his power and will who is the Supreme Cause. 
This, however, does not hinder but that the same medium may be subject to the like 
laws as other elastic fluids, in its actions and vibrations ; and that, if its nature were 
better known to us, we might make curious and useful discoveries concerning its 
effects, from these laws. It is easy to see that this conjecture no way derogates from 
the government and influences of the Deity ; while it leaves us at liberty to pursue 
our inquiries concerning the nature and operations of such a medium : Whereas they 
who hastily resolve these powers into immediate volitions of the Supreme Cause, with¬ 
out admitting any intermediate instruments, put an end to our inquiries at once ; and 
deprive us of what is probably the most sublime part of philosophy, by representing it 
as imaginary and fictitious.” 

On the merits of this passage, considered in relation to the evidences of natural 
religion, I do not mean to offer any remarks here. Some acute sti'ictures upon it in 
this point of view, but expressed with a most unbecoming and offensive petulance, may 
be found in the third volume of Baxter’s Inquiry into the Human Soul.—It is with 
the logical proposition alone, stated in the concluding sentence, that we are concerned 
at present; and this, although Baxter has passed it over without any animadversion, 
appears to me highly exceptionable ; proceeding on a very inaccurate, or rather 
totally erroneous conception of the object and aim of physical science. From the 
sequel of the section to which this note refers, (particularly from pages 449, 450,) I 
trust it will appear that, supposing all the phenomena of the universe to be produced 
by the immediate volitions of the Supreme Cause, the business of natural philosophers 
■would be precisely the same as upon the hypothesis adopted by Maclaurin ; the inves¬ 
tigation of the necessary connexions linking together physical causes and effects (if 
any such necessary connexions do exist) being confessedly placed beyond the reach of 
our faculties ; and, of consequence, our most successful researches terminating in the 
discovery of some genei’al law, or in the farther generalization and simplification of 
laws already known. In this intellectual process there is no more reason to apprehend 
that any limit is fixed to our inquiries, than that the future progress of geometry 
should be stopped by the discovery of some one truth comprising the whole science in 
a single theorem. 

Nor do I apprehend that the theory which excludes from the universe mechanism, 
(strictly so called,) tends, in the smallest degree, to detract from its beauty and 
grandeur ; notwithstanding the popular and much-admired argument of Mr. Boyle in 
support of this idea. (i As it more recommends,” he observes, “ the skill of an 
engineer to contrive an elaborate engine, so as that there need nothing to reach his 
ends in it, but the contrivance of parts void of understanding ; than if it were neces- 
sai’y that, ever and anon, a discreet servant should be employed to concur notably to 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


588 

the operations of this or that part, or to hinder the engine from being out of order : so 
it more sets off the wisdom of God, in the fabric of the universe, that lie can make so 
vast a machine perform all those many things which he designed it should, by the mei e 
contrivance of brute-matter, managed by certain laws of motion, and upheld by his 
ordinary and general concourse ; than if he employed from time to time, an intelligent 
overseer to regulate and control the motion of the parts .”* * * § —“ W hat may be the opinion 
of others,” says Lord Karnes, after quoting the foregoing passage, “ I cannot say ; but 
to me this argument is perfectly conclusive. Considering this universe as a great 
machine, the workmanship of an intelligent Cause, I cannot avoid thinking it the more 
complete, the less mending or interposition it requires. The perfection of every piece 
of workmanship, human and divine, consists in its answering the designed purpose, 
without bestowing further labour upon it.”f To myself, I must confess, Mr. Boyle’s 
argument appears altogether unworthy of its author. Ihe avowed use of a machine is 
to save labour ; and therefore, the less frequently the interposition of the artist is 
necessary, the more completely does the machine accomplish the purpose for which it 
was made. These ideas surely do not apply to the works of the Almighty. The multi¬ 
plicity of his operations neither distract his attention, nor exhaust his power; nor can 
we, without an obvious inconsistency in the very terms of the proposition, suppose him 
reduced to the necessity of economizing, by means of mechanism, the resources of 
Omnipotence.* 

My object in these observations, (I think it proper once more to remind my readers,) 
is not to prejudge the metaphysical question between Maelaurin and Baxter ; but 
merely to establish the two following propositions :—1. That this question is altogether 
foreign to the principles which form the basis of the inductive logic ; these principles 
neither affirming nor denying the existence of necessary connexions between physical 
causes and effects, but only asserting that such connexions, if they do exist, are not 
objects of human knowledge. 2. That no presumption in favour of their existence is 
afforded by Mr. Boyle’s similitude ; the reasoning founded on the supposed analogy 
between the universe and a machine, being manifestly inapplicable, where the power 
as well as the skill of the Contriver is admitted to be infinite. If the remarks offered 
on these points be well founded, they may serve, at the same time, to show, that the 
attempt made in the text to illustrate some abstract topics connected with the received 
rules of philosophizing was not altogether superfluous. 

The metaphysical doctrine maintained by Baxter, in opposition to Maelaurin, seems 
to coincide nearly with Malebranche’s Theory of Occasional Causes, as w'ell as with 
the theology of the old Orphic verses quoted in the seventh chapter of Aristotle’s 
Treatise De Mundu .—A very striking resemblance is observable between these verses 
and the Hymn to Narrayna, or the Spirit of God, translated by Sir William Jones from 
the writings of ancient Hindu poets. § 

Note m m, page 460. 

Although Dr. Reid was plainly led into this train of thinking by Mr. Hume, the 
same doctrine, with respect to the relation of cause and effect, (considered as the object 
of physical science,) is to be found in many English writers of a far earlier date. Of 
this assertion I have produced various proofs in my first part, from Hobbes, Barrow, 
Berkeley, and others, to whose speculations on this head Dr. Reid does not seem to 
have paid any attention. To these quotations I beg leave to add the following, from a 
book, of which the third edition was published in 1737. 

« Here it is worth observing, that all the real true knowledge we have of nature is 


* Inquiry into the Vulgar Notion of Nature. 

Of the Laws of Motion. Published in the first volume of the Physical and Literary 
Ejsays read before the Edinburgh Philosophical Society. (1754.) 

J A comparison still more absurd than that of Mr. Boyle occurs in the 6th chapter of 
Aristotle’s book De Mundo ; where it represents it as unbecoming the dignity of the Supreme 
Being avTovp’yeiv airaura ,—“ to put his own hand to every thing;” a supposition, according to 
him, much more unsuitable to the Divine Majesty, than to conceive a great monarch like 
Xerxes taking upon himself the actual execution of all his own decrees.” 

§ The same opinion is explicitly avowed by Dr. Clarke, a zealous partisan of the Experi¬ 
mental Philosophy, and one of the ablest logicians that the Newtonian School has hitherto 
produced. “ The course of nature, truly and properly speaking, is nothing but the will of God, 
producing certain effects in a continued, regular, constant, and uniform manner.”—Clarke’s 
Works, vol. ii. p. 698. fol. edition. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


58.0 


entirely experimental; insomuch, that how strange soever the assertion seems, we may 
lay this down as the first fundamental unerring rule in physics, that it is not within 
the compass of human understanding to assign a purely speculative reason for any one 
phenomenon in nature ; as why grass is green, or snow is white ; why fire burns, or 
cold congeals. By a speculative reason, I mean assigning an immediate efficient cause 
d priori, together with the manner of its operation, for any effect whatsoever purely 
natural. We find, indeed, by observation and experience, that such and such effects 
are produced; but when we attempt to think of the reason why, and the manner how, 
the causes work those effects, then tve are at a stand, and all our reasoning is pre¬ 
carious, or at best but probable conjecture. 

“ If any man is surprised at this, let him instance, in some speculative reason he 
can give for any natural phenomenon ; and how plausible soever it appears to him at 
first, he will, upon weighing it thoroughly, find it at last resolved into nothing more 
than mere observation and experiment, and will perceive that these expressions 
generally used to describe the cause or manner of the productions of nature, do really 
signify nothing more than the effects.”—The Procedure, Extents, and Limits of 
Human Understanding. Ascribed to Dr. Peter Brown, Bishop of Cork. London, 
1737, 3rd ed. 


For the following very curious extracts, together with many others of a similar 
import, both from English and from foreign writers, I am indebted to a learned 
correspondent, William Dickson, LL.D., a gentleman well known by his able and 
meritorious exertions for the abolition of the slave-trade. 

Confidence of science is one great reason we miss it: for on this account, presum¬ 
ing we have it everywhere, we seek it not where it is; and, therefore, fall short of the 
object of our inquiry. Now, to give further check to dogmatical pretensions, and to 
discover the vanity of assuming ignorance, we will make a short inquiry, whether there 
be any such thing as science in the sense of its assertors. In their notion, then, it is 
the knowledge of things in their true, immediate, necessary causes: upon this I will 
advance the following observations. 

“ 1. All knowledge of causes is deductive; for we know none by simple intuition, 
but through the mediation of their effects. So that we cannot conclude anything to 
be the cause of another, but from its continual accompanying it; for the causality itself 
is insensible. But now to argue from a concomitancy to a causality is not infallibly 
conclusive ; yea, in this way lies notorious delusion,” &c. &c. &c. 

“ 2. We hold no demonstration in the notion of the dogmatist, but where the con¬ 
trary is impossible,” &c. &c.—Scepsis Scientifica; or Conf'ess’t Ignorance the Way 
to Science; in an Essay of the Vanity of Dogmatizing and Confident Opinion; with a 
Reply to the Exceptions of the learned Thomas Albius.* By Joseph Glanvill, M.A., 
London, 1665. Dedicated to the Royal Society. 

(i Causalities are first found out by concomitancy, as I intimated. And our experi¬ 
ence of the dependence of one, and independence of the other, shows which is the 
effect, and which the cause. Definitions cannot discover causalities, for they ai’e 
formed after the causality is known. So that, in our author’s instance, a man cannot 
know heat to be the atoms of fire, till the concomitancy be known, and the efficiency 
first presumed. The question is, then, how heat is known to be the effect of fire ? 
Our author answers by its definition. But how came it to be so defined ? The answer 
must be, bv the concomitancy and dependence, for there is nothing else assignable.”— 
SCI R£ tuum nihil est :f or the Author’s Defence of the Vanity of Dogmatizing, against 
the Exceptions of the learned Thomas Albius, in his late Sciri. London, 1665. 

«Inter causam proprie dictam et effectum oportet esse necessarium nexum; adeo ut 
posita actione causse sequatur necessario effectus. Cum Deus vult aliquid efficere id 
necessario eveniat oportet, &c. Quia autem ejusmodi nexus non cernitur inter causas 
creatas et effectus, nonnulli causas secundas, seu creatas, sua vi agere negarunt. 
Negant corpora a corporibus moveri, quod inter motum corporis, et motum eorum in 
qum incidit nullus deprehendatur nexus, adeo ut moto corpore A, necesse sit moveri 
corpus B, cui colliditur. lidem quoque negant corpora a spiritibus moveri, quia inter 
voluntatem spirituum et motum corporum nullam connexionem animadvertunt, &c. 
Fatendum a nobis hujusmodi connexum nullum cerni, nec sequi ex eo quod, corpore 
moto, id, in quod incidit, movetur; aut ex eo quod, mente volente,. corpus agitatur, 

* Or White, a Romish priest, author of a treatise entitled, Sciri sive Sceptices et Sceptico- 
rum a jure Disputationis Excltisio. (See Biog. Diction.) 

•p “ Your knowing is nothing.” 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


590 

corpora et mentem esse veras motus causas. Fieri posset, ut occasiones tantum essent, 
quibus positis, alia causa ageret. Verum uti, ex ejusmodi possibilitate, lion collegeris 
rem ita se habere; ita ne eo quod non adsequeris aliquid, consequens est ut nihil sit; 
nisi aliunde probaveris tibi esse earum rerum, de quibus agitur, adaequatam ideam, aut 
rem repugnare, &c. Possunt inesse corporibus motis, et spiritibus,- lacultatesdgnotae, 
de quibus judicium nullum, aut negando aut affirmando, ferre possumus. Itaque ex 
aequo peccant, qui affirmant inesse iis certo facultates efficiendorum quorundam, quse 
an ab iis fiant ignorant; et qui negant quidquam inesse corporibus et spiritibus, nisi 
quod in iis perspicue norunt.”—Joannis Clerici Opera Philosophica. Amstel. 1698. 
Ontol. t. i. p. 376.* 

After this cloud of authorities, (many of which are from books in very general cir¬ 
culation,) it is surprising that the following sentence should have escaped the pen of 
Dr. Beattie. “ The sea has ebbed and flowed twice every day, in time past; therefore 
the sea will continue to ebb and flow twice every day in time to come, is by no means 
a logical deduction of a conclusion from premises. This remark was first made by 
Mr. Hume.”—Essay on Truth, 2nd ed. p. 126. 

It is evident, that this remark is only a particular application of the doctrine con¬ 
tained in the above quotations ; as well as in the numerous extracts, to the same 
purpose, collected in Note c. In one of these, from Hobbes, the very same observation 
is made; and a sort of theory is proposed to explain how the mind is thus led to infer 
the future from the past; a theory which, however unsatisfactory for its avowed pur¬ 
pose, is yet sufficient to show, that the author was fully aware that our expectation of 
the continuance of the laws of nature was a fact not to be accounted for from the 
received principles of the scholastic philosophy. 

Note n n, page 472. 

From the preface of Pappus Alexandrinus to the 7th book of his Mathematical 
Collection. (See Halley’s Version and Restitution of Apollonius Pergseus de Sectione 
Rationis et Spatii,t p. xxviii.) 

. . . “ Resolutio est methodus, qua a qusesito quasi jam concesso per ea quse 

deinde consequuntur, ad conclusionem aliquam, cujus ope Compositio fiat, perducamur. 
In resolutione enim, quod qujeritur ut jam factum supponentes, ex quo antecedente 
hoc consequatur expendimus ; iterumque quodnam fuerit liujus antecedens ; atque ita 
deinceps, usque dum in liunc modum regredientes, in aliquid jam cognitum locoque 
principii liabitum incidamus. Atque liic processus Analysis vocatur, quasi dicas, 
inversa solutio. E contrario autem in Compositione, cognitum illud, in Resolutione 
ultimo loco acquisitum ut jam factum preemittentes; et quse ibi consequentia erant, hie 
ut antecedentia naturali ordine disponentes, atque inter se conferentes, tandem ad 
Constructionem qusesiti pervenimus. Hoc autem vocamus Synthesin. Duplex autem 

* “ Between cause, properly so called, and effect, there ought to be a necessary connexion, 
so that the question of the cause being taken for granted, the effect necessarily follows. When 
the Deity wills to do anything, it must of necessity happen. But since no such necessary 
connexion exists between created causes and effects, some have denied that secondary or 
created causes act by their own power. They deny that bodies are moved by bodies, because 
that no connexion can be discovered between the motion of a body and the motion of another 
on which it falls : so that the body A being moved, it is necessary-that the body B against 
which it is impinged, should be moved. They also deny that body can be moved by spirit, 
because that they perceive no connexion between the will of spirits and the motion of bodies. 
We must allow that no connexion of this kind is observed, nor that it follows from that 
circumstance that one body being moved, another on which it impinges is moved, that body 
and mind are the true causes of motion. It might be that they are only occasions which 
taking place, another cause would act. But as from such a possibility you cannot conclude 
that the case is so, it does not follow that because you cannot prove something, it therefore is 
not the fact, unless you can by some other means prove that you have an adequate idea of the 
things in question, or that there is a contradiction, &c. &c. There may be in bodies in 
motion and in spirits unknown powers, concerning which we can form no judgment either in 
the negative or affirmative; therefore they equally err who, being ignorant that one class of 
phenomena is produced by another, affirm that these last have undoubtedly powers of causing 
things, and who deny that there is anything in body or spirit, unless what they can clearly 
perceive.”—Philosophical Works of John Le Clcrc. 

f “ On the Section of Rates and of Space.” 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


591 

est Analyseos genus, vel enim est veri indagatrix, diciturque Theoretica; vel propositi 
investigatrix, ac Problematica vocatur. In Theoretico autem genere, quod quseritur, 
revera ita se habere supponentes, ac deinde per ea quse consequuntur, quasi vera sint, 
ut sunt ex hypothesi, argumentantes ; ad evidentem aliquam conclusionem procedimus. 
Jam si conclusio ilia vera sit, vera quoque est propositio de qua quseritur; ac demon¬ 
strate reciproce respondet analysi. Si vero in falsam conclusionem incidamus, falsum 
quoque erit de quo quseritur.* In Problematico vero genere, quod proponitur ut jam 
cognitum sistentes, per ea quse exinde consequuntur tanquam vera, perducimur ad 
conclusionem aliquam : quod si conclusio ilia possibilis sit ac Tropia-rri, quod mathematici 
Datum appellant; possible quoque erit quod proponitur : et hie quoque demonstrate 
reciproce respondebit Analysi. Si vero incidamus in conclusionem impossibilem, erit 
etiam problema impossible. Diorismus autem sive determinate est qua discernitur 
quibus conditionibus quotque modis problema effici possit. Atque lisec de Resolutione 
et Compositione dicta sunto.” + 


Note o o, page 490. 

The following passage from Buffon, although strongly marked with the author’s 
characteristical spirit of system, is yet, I presume, sufficiently correct in the outline to 
justify me for giving it a place iu this note, as an illustration of what I have said in 
the text on the insensible gradations which fix the limits between resemblance and 
analogy. 

u Take the skeleton of a man ; incline the bones of the pelvis ; shorten those of the 
thighs, legs, and arras ; join the phalanges of the fingers and toes; lengthen the jaws 
by shortening the frontal bones ; and lastly, extend the spine of the back. This skele¬ 
ton would no longer represent that of a man ; it would be the skeleton of a horse. 
For, by lengthening the back-bone and the jaws, the number of the vertebrae, ribs, and 
teeth would be increased ; and it is only by the numbers of these bones, and by the 
prolongation, contraction, and junction of others, that the skeleton of a horse differs 
from that of a man. The ribs, which are essential to the figure of animals, are found 
equally in man, in quadrupeds, in birds, in fishes, and even in the turtle. The foot of 
the horse, so apparently different from the hand of a man, is composed of similar bones, 
and, at the extremity of each finger, we have the same small bone resembling the shoe 
of a horse which bounds the foot of that animal. Raise the skeletons of quadrupeds, 

* From the account given in the text of Theoretical Analysis, it would seem to follow, that 
its advantages, as a method of investigation, increase in proportion to the variety of demonstra¬ 
tions of which a theorem admits; and that, in the case of a theorem admitting of one demon¬ 
stration alone, the two methods would be exactly on a level. The justness of this conclusion 
will, I believe, be found to correspond with the experience of every person conversant with the 
processes of the Greek geometry. 

“ Analysis is a method by which, as if from some postulate admitted, we are led on to some 
conclusion by means of which synthesis may take place. For in analysis, supposing that what 
we require is done, we consider from what antecedent such a consequent results, and then 
again what was the antecedent of this, and so on, until proceeding backwards in this manner 
we arrive at something already known and regarded as a principle. And this is called analysis, 
as it were inverted solution. But on the contrary in synthesis, omitting as already done that 
known proposition acquired last of all by means of solution, and disposing in natural order as 
antecedents, and comparing with each other what were their consequents, we succeed at length 
in effecting what we sought. And this we call synthesis. But there are two sorts of analysis ; 
for it is either an investigator of truth, and is called theoretical, or an investigator of some- 
thinar proposed to be done, and is called problematical. In the theoretical kind, supposing what 
is sought to be in reality such as we suppose it, and then arguing by means of the conse¬ 
quents as if they w r ere true, as they are according to the hypothesis, we arrive at some certain 
conclusion. Now if this conclusion be true, the proposition also is true about which we are 
inquiring, and the demonstration corresponds to the analysis. But if we arrive at a false 
conclusion, that also about which we inquire will be false. But in the problematic sort, laying 
down what is proposed as already known, we are conducted to some conclusion by means of 
those things which follow as true; wherefore if that conclusion be possible and feasible which 
mathematicians call a datum, that which is proposed will also be possible, and here also the 
demonstration answers reciprocally to the analysis. But if w'e arrive at an impossible conclu¬ 
sion, the problem will also be impossible. But limitation or determination is that by which 
it is ascertained under what conditions and by how many ways a problem can be effected. 
And let so much suffice concerning solution and composition.” 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


592 

from the ape kind to the mouse, upon their hind-legs, and compare them with the 
skeleton of a man ; the mind will be instantly struck with the uniformity of structure 
observed in the formation of the whole group. This uniformity is so constant, and the 
gradations from one species to another are so imperceptible, that to discover the marks 
of their discrimination requires the most minute attention. Even the bones of the 
tail will make but a slight impression on the observer. The tail is only a prolongation 
of the os coccygis or rump-bone, which is short in man. The ouran outang and true 
apes have no tail, and in the baboon and several other quadrupeds its length is very 
inconsiderable. Thus, in the creation of animals, the Supreme Being seems to have 
employed only one great idea, and, at the same time, to have diversified it in every 
possible manner, that men might have an opportunity of admiring equally the magnifi¬ 
cence of the execution and the simplicity of the design.”—Smellie’s Translation. 

As a proof that the general conclusion in which the foregoing extract terminates, 
requires some important qualifications and restrictions, it is sufficient to subjoin a few 
remarks from a later writer, who, with the comprehensive views of Buffon, has combined 
a far greater degree of caution and correctness in his scientific details. 

. “ It has been supposed *by certain naturalists, that all beings may be 

placed in a series or scale, beginning with the most perfect, and terminating in the 
most simple, or in the one which possesses qualities the least numerous and most com. 
mon, so that the mind, in passing along the scale from one being to another, shall be 
nowhere conscious of any chasm or interval, but proceed by gradations almost insensible. 
In reality, while we confine our attention within certain limits, and especially while we 
consider the organs separately, and trace them through animals of the same class only, 
we find them proceed, in their degradation, in the most uniform and regular manner, 
and often perceive a part or vestige of a part in animals where it is of no use, and 
where it seems to have been left by Nature, only that she might not transgress her 
general law of continuity. 

“ But, on the one hand, all the organs do not follow the same order in their degra¬ 
dation. This organ is at its highest state of perfection in one species of animals ; that 
organ is most perfect in a different species, so that, if the species are to be arranged 
after each particular organ, there must be as many scales or series formed as there 
are regulating organs assumed ; and in order to construct a general scale of perfection, 
applicable to all beings, there must be calculation made of the effect resulting from 
each particular combination of organs,—a .calculation which, it is needless to add, is 
hardly practicable. 

“ On the other hand, these slight shades of difference, these insensible gradations, 
continue to be observed only while we confine ourselves to the same combinations of 
leading organs ; only while we direct our attention to the same great central springs. 
Within these boundaries all animals appear to be formed on one common plan, which 
serves as the groundwork to all the lesser internal modifications : but the instant we 
pass to animals where the leading combinations are different, the whole of the resem¬ 
blance ceases at once, and we cannot but be conscious of the abruptness of the transition. 

“ Whatever separate arrangements may be suitable for the two great classes of 
animals, with and without vertebrae, it will be impossible to place at the end of the one 
series, and at the commencement of the other, two animals sufficiently resembling, to 
form a proper bond of connexion.”—Introduction to Cuvier’s Le^ns d’Anatoinie 
Comparee. 

Note p p, page 499. 

Of fortunate conjectures or hypotheses concerning the laws of nature, many additional 
examples might be produced from the scientific history of the 18th century. Frank¬ 
lin’s sagacious and confident anticipation of the identity of lightning and of electricity 
is one of the most remarkable. The various analogies previously remarked between 
their respective phenomena had become, at this period, so striking to philosophers, that 
the decisive experiment necessary to complete the theory was carried into execution 
in the course of the same month, on both sides of the Atlantic. In the circumstantial 
details recorded of that made in America, there is something peculiarly interesting. 

I transcribe them in the words of Dr. Priestley, who assures us that he received them 
from the best authority. 

“ After Franklin had published his method of verifying his hypothesis concerning 
the sameness of electricity with the matter of lightning' lie was waiting for the erection 
of a spire in Philadelphia to carry his views into execution, not imagining that a pointed 
rod of a moderate height could answer the purpose ; when it occurred to him that, by 
means of a common kite, he could have a readier and better access to the regions of 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


593 


thunder than by any spire whatever. Preparing, therefore, a large silk handkerchief, 
and two cross sticks of a proper length, on which to extend it, he took the opportunity 
ot the first approaching thunder-storm to take a walk into a field, in which there was 
a shed convenient for his purpose. But, dreading the ridicule which too commonly 
attends unsuccessful attempts in science, he communicated his intended experiment to 
nobody but his son, who assisted him in raising the kite. 

“ The kite being raised, a considerable time elapsed before there was any appearance 
of its being electrified. One very promising cloud had passed over it without any 
effect; when, at length, just as he was beginning to despair of his contrivance, he 
observed some loose threads of the hempen string to stand erect, and to avoid one 
another just as if they had been suspended on a common conductor. Struck with this 
promising appearance, he immediately presented his knuckle to the key, and (let the 
reader judge of the exquisite pleasure he must have felt at that moment) the discovery 
was complete. He perceived a very evident electric spark. Others succeeded, even 
before the string was wet, so as to put the matter past all dispute ; and when the rain 
had wet the string, he collected electric fire very copiously. This happened in June, 
1752, a month after the electricians in France had verified the same theory, but before 
he heard of anything they had done.”—Priestley’s History of Electricity, pp. 180, 
181, 4to. edition. 


Note q q, page 502. 

“ Natural knowledge may not unaptly be compared to a vegetable, whether plant 
or tree, which springs from a seed sowed in a soil proper, and adapted by a skilful 
gardener, for that plant. For as the seed, by small fibrils or roots it shoots out, 
receives from the soil or earth a nourishment proper and adapted for ascending into 
the body or stalk, to make it grow in bulk and strength to shoot upwards, and from 
thence to shoot forth branches, and from them leaves, thereby to draw and receive out 
of the air a more refined, spirituous, and enlivening juice, which, descending back into 
the body or stock, increases its stature, bulk, circumference, and strength, by new 
incirclings, and thereby enables it to send forth more fibrils and greater roots, which 
afford greater and more plentiful supplies to the stock or trunk, and enables that to 
exert and shoot forth more branchings, and gi’eater numbei’s of leaves ; which, repeat- 
ing all the effects and operations by continued and constant circulations, at length 
bring the plant to its full statui’e and perfection : 

“ So natui'al knowledge doth l’eceive its first infoi’mations from the supplies afforded 
by select and pi’oper phenomena of nature conveyed by the senses ; these improve the 
understanding, and enable it to raise some branchings out into conclusions, corollai’ies, 
and maxims ; these afford a nuti'itive and strengthening power to the understanding, 
and enable it to put forth new roots of inquisition, ti’ials, observations, and experi- 
ments, and thereby to di’aw new supplies of information : which further strengthening 
the undei’standing, enable it to exert and produce new deductions and new axioms : 
These circulate and descend downwards, increasing and sti’engthening the judgment, 
and thereby enable it to make more stinking out of roots of inquiries and experiments, 
which cause the like effects as before, but more powerfully, and so by consent and 
continued circulations from phenomena to make deductions, and from deductions to 
inquire phenomena, it brings the understanding to a complete and perfect compre¬ 
hension of the matter at first proposed to be considered.”—Hooke’s Posthumous 
Works, p. 553. 


Note r r, page 503. 

« Aliquando observations et experiments immediate nobis exhibent principia, quae 
quaerimus ; sed aliquando etiam hypotheses in auxilium vocamus, non tamen penitus 
arbitrarias, sed conforms iis quae observantur, et quae supplentes immediatarum 
observationum defectum, viam investigation! sternunt, tanquam divinantibus ; ut si ea, 
quae ex ipsis deducuntur, inveniamus re ipsa, eadem retineamus, et progrediamur ad 
nova consectaria ; secus vero, ipsas rejiciamus. Et quidem plerumque hanc esse 
arbitror methodum omnium aptissimam in physica, quae saepissime est velut qusedam 
enucleatio epistolae arcanis notis conscriptae, ubi per attentationem, et per errores etiam 
plurimos paulatim et caute progrediendo, ad veram ejus theoriam devenitur : cujus rei 
specimen admodum luculentum exhibui in mea dissertation de lumine, agens de 
rectilinea luminis propagation ; ac in Stayanae Philosophic tomo i., agens de gene- 

Q Q 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


594 

ralibus proprietatibus corporum, et de vi inertire in priinis torno vero ii. agens de 
totius Astronomies constitutione.”—Boscovich de Solis ac Lunse Defectibus.* 

In Sprat’s History of the Royal Society, a similar idea occurs, illustrated by an 
image equally fanciful and apposite. “ It is not to be questioned, but many inventions 
of great moment have been brought foi’th by authors, who began upon suppositions, 
which afterwards they found to be untrue. And it frequently happens to philosophers, 
as it did to Columbus ; who first believed the clouds that hovered about the continent 
to be the firm land : but this mistake was happy ; for, by sailing towards them, he was 
led to what he sought ; so by prosecuting of mistaken causes, with a resolution of not 
giving over the pursuit, they have been guided to the truth itself.” 

[The work from which this passage is taken, it may be here remarked, by the way, 
affords complete evidence of the share which, in the judgment of the founders of the 
Royal Society, Bacon had in giving a beginning to experimental pursuits in England. 
See, in particular, section xvi.] 

Note s s, page 504. 

With respect to the application of the method of exclusions to physics, an important 
logical remark is made by Newton, in one of his letters to Mr. Oldenburgh. Obvious 
and trivial as it may appear to some, it has been overlooked by various writers of 
great name : and therefore I think proper to state it in Newton’s own words. 

“ In the meanwhile, give me leave, Sir, to insinuate, that I cannot think it effectual 
for determining truth, to examine the several ways by which phenomena may be 
explained, unless where there can be a perfect enumeration of all those ways. You 
know the proper method for inquiring after the properties of things, is to deduce them 
from experiments. And I told you, that the theory which I propounded, concerning 
lights and coloui’s, was evinced to me, not by inferring, it is thus, because it is not 
otherwise : that is, not by deducing it only from a confutation of contrary suppositions, 
but by deriving it from experiments concluding positively and directly. The way, 
therefore, to examine it is, by considering whether the experiments which I propound, 
do prove those parts of the theory to which they are applied ; oi’ by prosecuting other 
experiments which the theory may suggest for its examination,” &c., &c.—Horsley’s 
Edition of Newton’s Works, vol. iv. p. 320. 


Note tt, page 507. 

« If we consider the infantine state of our knowledge concerning vision, light, and 
colours, about a century ago, very great advancements will appear to have been made 
in this branch of science ; and yet a philosopher of the present age has more deside¬ 
rata, can start more difficulties and propose more new subjects of inquiry than even 
Alhazen or Lord Bacon. The reason is, that whenever a new property of any sub¬ 
stance is discovered, it appears to have connexions with other properties, and other 
things, of which we could have no idea at all before, and which are by this means but 
imperfectly announced to us. Indeed, every doubt implies some degree of knowledge ; 
and while nature is a field of such amazing, perhaps boundless extent, it may be 
expected that the more knowledge we gain, the more doubts and difficulties we shall 
have ; but still, since every advance in knowledge is a real and-valuable acquisition to 
mankind, in consequence of its enabling us to apply the powers of nature to render 
our situation in life more happy, we have reason to rejoice at every new difficulty that 
is started, because it informs us that more knowledge and more advantage are yet 

* [Sometimes observations and experiments immediately present to us the principles which 
we seek, but sometimes also we call hypotheses to our assistance ; not, however, those completely 
arbitrary, but conformable to things observed, and which, supplying the want of immediate 
observations, pave the way for investigation, as if we were proceeding by divination ; so that if 
the consequences resulting from them be conformable to reality, we retain them and proceed 
to new results ; but if otherwise, we reject them. And indeed I consider this course generally 
the best in physical sciences, which are often like the deciphering of a letter written in secret 
characters, in which, by proceeding attentively, cautiously, and by degrees, through errors 
however numerous, we arrive at the true conjecture, of which I have given a very clear 
instance in my Treatise on Light, where I treat of the rectilinear propagation of light; and in 
the first volume of the Philosophy of Stay, where I treat of the general properties of bodies, 
and of the vis inertiae, especially where I treat of the whole frame of astronomy.]—Boscovich 
on the Eclipses of the Sun and Moon. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


595 

unattained, and should serve to quicken our diligence in the pursuit of them. Every 
desideratum is an imperfect discovery.”—Priestley’s History of Discoveries relating to 
Vision, Light, and Colours, p. 773. Lond. 1772. 


Note u u, page 509. 

For the analogies between Galvanism and Electricity, see Traite Eldmentaire de 
Physique,* par M. L’Abbe Hatiy, sec. 717. —The passage concludes with the following 
remark, which may be regarded as an additional proof, that even when analogical con¬ 
jectures appear to depart the most widely from the evidence of experience, it is from 
experience that they derive their whole authority over the belief. “ Partout le fluide 
electrique semble se multiplier par la diversite des phenomenes ; et il nous avait tene¬ 
ment accoutumes a ses metamorphoses, que la nouveaute' meme de la forme sous 
laquelle il s’offrait dans le galvanisme naissant, semblait etre une raison de plus pour 
le reconnaitre.” + 


Note x x, page 522. 

In that branch of politics which relates to the theory of government, one source of 
error, not unfrequently overlooked by the advocates for experience, arises from the 
vagueness of the language in which political facts are necessarily stated by the most 
faithful and correct historians. No better instance of this can be produced than -the 
terms monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, commonly employed to distinguish 
different forms of government from each other. These words, in their strict philo¬ 
sophical acceptation, obviously denote not actual but ideal constitutions, existing only 
in the imagination of the political theorist ; while, in more popular discourse, they are 
used to discriminate, according to their prevailing bias or spirit, the various mixed 
establishments exemplified in the history of human affairs. Polybius, accordingly, 
with his usual discernment, expresses his doubts under which of the three simple forms 
the constitution of Rome, at the period when he had an opportunity of studying it, 
ought to be classed. “When we contemplate,” he observes/* the power of the Consuls, 
it seems to be a monarchy ; when we attend to the power of the Senate, it seems to be 
an aristocracy ; when we attend to the power of the people, we are ready to pronounce 
it a democracy.”! 


* Elementary Treatise on Physics. 

■f* [The electric fluid everywhere seems to multiply itself by the variety of its phenomena, 
and it had so accustomed us to its metamorphoses, that the novelty of the form under which 
it presented itself in the infancy of galvanism, seemed to be an additional reason for recognising 
its presence.] 

J This observation of Polybius has been very unjustly criticised by Grotius. “ Sed neque 
Polybii hie utor auctoritate, qui ad mixtum genus reipubliese refert Romanam rempublicam, 
quae illo tempore, si non actiones ipsas, sed jus agendi respicimus, mere fuit popularis : Nam 
et senatus auctoritas, quam ad optimatum regimen refert, et consulum quos quasi reges fuisse 
vult, subdita erat populo. Idem de aliorum politica scribentium sententiis dictum volo, qui 
magis externam speciem et quotidianam administrationem, quam jus ipsum summi imperii spec- 
tare congruens ducunt suo instituto.” (De Jure Belli ac Pads, lib. i. cap. 3.) The truth is, 
that Polybius is not here speaking of the theory of the Roman constitution, (about which there 
could be no diversity of opinion), but of what common observers are so apt to overlook, the 
actual state of that constitution, modified as it was by time, and chance, and experience. 
Among the numerous commentators on Grotius, I recollect one only, Henry de Cocceii, who 
has viewed this question in its proper light. “ Auctor inter eos, qui circa formas imperii fal- 
luntur etiam Polybium refert, qui rempublicam Romanam suis temporibus mixtam fuisse ait. 
At bene notandum, Polybium non loqui de mixtura status sed administrationis: forma enim 
reipubliese erat mere popularis,sed administratio divisa fuit inter consules, senatum, et populum. 

[But I do not here make use of the authority of Polybius, who refers the Roman republic 
to a mixed kind of republic, although at that time it was more popular, if we look not so much 
to the acts of the state, as to the right of acting for the authority of the senate, which he refers 
to the government of nobles and of the consuls, whom he considers as it were kings, was sub¬ 
ject to the people. I wish the same to be said concerning the opinions of other political 
writers, who think their plan requires them rather to regard external appearance and the daily 
exercise of government, than the right itself of supreme power.—On the Rights of War and 
Peace. . . . The author also enumerates Polybius among those who are mistaken 

concerning the forms of government, because, he says, that in his time the Roman republic had 

Q Q 2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


596 

It is easy to see how much this scantiness and want of precision in our political vocabu¬ 
lary, must contribute to mislead the judgments of those reasoners who do not analyse 
very accurately the notions annexed to their words ; and, at the same time, what a 
purchase they afford to the sophistry of such writers as are disposed, in declamations 
addressed to the multitude, to take an undue advantage of the ambiguities of language. 

Another source of error which goes far to invalidate the authority of various political 
maxims supposed to be founded on experience, is the infinite multiplicity of the seem¬ 
ingly trifling and evanescent causes connected with the local manners and habits, which, 
in their joint result, modify, and in some cases counteract so powerfully, the effects of 
written laws and of established forms. Of these causes no verbal description can con¬ 
vey an adequate idea ; nor is it always possible even for the most attentive and 
sagacious observer, when the facts are before his eyes, to appreciate all their force :— 
so difficult is it to seize the nicer shades which distinguish the meanings of correspon¬ 
dent terms in different languages ; and to enter, at years of maturity, into those 
delicate and complex associations which, in the mind of a well-educated native, are 
identified with the indigenous feelings of national sympathy and taste. 

Of the truth of this remark a striking illustration presents itself in the mutual ignor¬ 
ance of the French and English nations, separated from each other by a very narrow 
channel, and, for centuries past, enjoying so many opportunities of the most familiar 
intercourse, with respect to the real import of the words and phrases marking the 
analogous gradations of rank in the two countries. The words genlilhomme and gentle¬ 
man are both derived from the same etymological root ; yet how imperfect a transla¬ 
tion does the one afford of the other! and how impossible to convey by a definition all 
that is applied in either ! Among French writers of no inconsiderable name, we meet 
with reasonings which plainly show, that they considered the relative rank of the members 
of our two Houses of Parliament, as something similar to what is expressed in their 
own language by the words noble and roturier; —while others, puzzled with the inex¬ 
plicable phenomena occasionally arising from the boundless field of ambition opened in 
this fortunate island to every species of industry and of enterprise, have been led to 
conclude, that birth has, among us, no other value than what it derives from the 
privileges secured by the constitution to our hereditary legislators. Few, perhaps, but 
the natives of Great Britain are fully aware how very remote from the truth are both 
these suppositions. 

I transcribe the following passage from an article in the French Encyclopedic, 
written by an author of some distinction both for talents and learning ; and which 
it is not impossible may be quoted, at some future period in the history of the 
world, as an authentic document with respect to the state of English society in 
the eighteenth century. The writer had certainly much better access to information 
than was enjoyed by those to whom we are indebted for our experimental knowledge 
of the ancient systems of policy. 

“ En Angleterre, la loi des successions attribue aux aines dans les famille snobles 
les biens immeubles, a l’exclusion des cadets qui n’y ont aucune part. Ces cadets 
sans bien cherchent a reparer leurs pertes dans l’exercice du negoce, et c’est pour 
eux un moyen presque sur de s’enrichir. Devenus riches, ils quittent la profession, 
ou meme sans la quitter, leurs enfans rentrent dans tous les droits de la noblesse 
de leur famille ; leurs aines prennent le titre de milord si leur naissance et la pos¬ 
session d’une terre pairie le leur permettent.—II faut neanmoins remarquer, que 
quelque fi£re que soit la noblesse Anglaise, lorsque les nobles entrent en appren- 
tissage, qui selon les reglemens doit etre de sept ans entiers, jamais ils ne se couvrent 
devant leurs maitres, leur parlant et travaillant t£te nue, quoique souvent le maitre 
soit roturier et de race marchande, et que les apprentifs soient de la premiere noblesse.” 
—Encyclop. Method. Commerce, tom. iii. article Noblesse.* * 

a mixed form. But it should be observed, that the remark of Polybius is not about the mixed 
nature of the government, but of its administration ; for the form of the government was 
purely popular, but the administration was divided between consuls, senate, and people.] 

* [In England, the law of succession assigns the fixed property to the eldest child in noble 
families, so that the younger are totally excluded. The younger, being without property, try 
to repair their losses by means of business, which furnishes them with an almost certain means 
of acquiring wealth. Having become rich, they quit their business ; or even though they do 
not, their children resume all the rights of the noble rank belonging to their families. Their 
eldest sons assume the title of lord, if their birth and the possession of an estate conferring 
peerage allow them to do so. However, it should be remarked, that however proud the 
English nobility are when those of noble birth become apprentices, which should regularly be 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


597 


Note y y, page 527. 

“ Metaphysics pars secunda est finalium causarum inquisitio, quam non ut 
praetermissam, sed ut male collocatam notamus. Solent enim inquiri inter physica 
non inter metaphysica. Quanquam si ordinis hoc solum vitium esset, non mihi fuerit 
tanti. Ordo enim ad illustrationem pertinet, neque est ex substantia scientiarum. At 
hcec ordinis inversio defectum insignem peperit, et maximam philosophic induxit 
calamitatem. Tractatio enim causarum finalium in physicis, inquisitionem causarum 
pliysicarum expulit et dejecit, efFecitque ut homines in istiusmodi speciosis et 
urabratilibus causis acquiescerent, nec inquisitionem causarum realium, et vei’e 
physicarum, strenue urgerent, ingenti scientiarum detrimento. Etenim reperio hoc 
factum esse non solum a Platone, qui in hoc littore semper auchoram figit, verum 
etiam ab Aristotele, Galeno, et aliis, qui seepissime etiam ad ilia vada impingunt. * 
Etenim qui causas adduxerit hujusmodi, palpebras cum pilis pro sepi et vallo esse, ad 
muuimentum oculorum : aut corium in animalibus firmitudinem esse ad propellendos 
calores et frigora : aut ossa pro columnis et trabibus a natura induci, quibus fabrica 
corporis innitatur : aut folia arborum emitti, quo fructus minus patiantur a sole et 
vento : aut nubes in sublimi fieri, ut terram imbribus irrigent : aut terram densari et 
solidari, ut statio et mansio sit animalium : et alia similia. Is in metaphysicis non 
male ista allegarit : in physicis autem nequaquam. Imo, quod coepimus dicere, 
hujusmodi sermonum discursus (instar remorarum, uti fingunt, navibus adhserentium) 
scientiarum quasi velificationem et progressum retardarunt, ne cui'sum suum tenerent, 
et ulterius progredei’entur : et jampridem effecerunt, ut physicarum causarum 
inquisitio neglecta deficeret, ac silentio prseteriretur. Quapropter pliilosophia naturalis 
Democriti, et aliorum, qui Deum et mentem a fabrica rerum amoverunt ; et structui’am 
univex'si infinitis natux’se prselusionibus et tentamentis (quas uno nomine fatum aut 
fortunam vocabant) attribuerunt ; et rerum pai’ticularium causas, materic necessitati, 
sine intermixtione causarum finalium, assignaiumt; nobis videtur, quatenus ad causas 
physicas, multo solidior fuisse, et altius in Naturam penetrasse, quam ilia Aristotelis, 
et Platonis ; Hane unicam ob causam, quod illi in causis finalibus nunquam operam 
triverunt; hi autem eas pei'petuo inculcarunt. Atque magis in hac parte accusandus 
Aristoteles quam Plato : quandoquidem fontem causarum finalium, Deum scilicet, 
omisei’it, et naturam pro Deo substituerit, causasque ipsas finales, potius ut logicse 
anxator quam theologise, amplexus sit. Neque hcc eo dicimus, quod causae illae 
finales verse non sint, et inquisitione admodum dignee in speculationibus metaphysicae, 
sed quia dum in physicarum causarum possessiones excuri’unt et irruunt, misere earn 
provinciam depopulantur et vastant.”—De Augm. Scient. lib. iii. cap. 4.* 


for seven full years, they never cover their heads before their masters, but speak to them and 
work with bare heads, although often the master is a plebeian and of the race of tradesmen, 
and the apprentices are of the highest class of nobility—Systematic Encyclopaedia, Commerce, 
vol. iii. article Nobility.] 

* [The second part of metaphysics is the investigation of final causes, which we notice not as 
omitted but misplaced. For they are usually investigated, not among the physical sciences, 
but the metaphysical. Although, if this were the fault merely of arrangement, it were not of 
so much importance, for arrangement belongs to elucidation and not to the essence of sciences. 
But this inversion of arrangement has produced a striking defect, and caused a very great 
injury to philosophy. For the consideration of final causes in physics has made physical causes 
be rejected, and, to the great hurt of science, has induced men to rest contented with those 
specious and speculative causes, and not earnestly pursue the investigation of real and genuine 
physical causes. For I find this not only done by Plato, who continually anchors here, hut 
by Galen, Aristotle, and others, who often strike on his shoal. For he who brings forward 
these notions, that the eyelids are provided with hairs as a hedge and palisade to protect the 
eyes, or that the strength of the skin in animals is to repel heat and cold, or that the hones are 
given by nature as columns and beams to support the frame of the body, or that leaves spring 
from trees, that the fruit might he less exposed to the sun and wind, or that the clouds are 
situated aloft that they might moisten the earth with showers, or that the earth is given density 
and solidity that it might afford a station and residence for animals; and such things he would 
not injudiciously allege in metaphysics, but quite otherwise in physics. Yea, as we began to 
observe, such dissertations (like what is fabled of the remora sticking to ships) have retarded 
the speed and progress of the sciences, and prevented them from holding on their course, 
and gaining a more advanced stage, and have long ago caused that the investigation of physical 
causes being neglected, decayed, and was passed over unnoticed. Wherefore, the natural 





598 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note z z, page 534. 

Among the earliest opponents of Des Cartes’ doctrine concerning Final Causes, was 
Gassendi; a circumstance which I remark with peculiar pleasure, as he has been so 
unjustly represented by Cudworth and others, as a partisan, not only of the physical, 
but of the atheistical opinions of the Epicurean school. For this charge I do not see 
that they had the slightest pretence to urge, but that, in common with Bacon, he justly 
considered the physical theories of Epicurus and Democritus as more analogous to the 
experimental inquiries of the moderns, than the logical subtilties of Aristotle and of 
the schoolmen. The following passage is transcribed, in Gassendi’s own words, from 
his Objections to the Meditations of Des Cartes. 

“ Quod autem k physica considerations rejicis usum causarum finalium, alia fortassis 
occasione potuisses recte facere : at de Deo cum agitur verendum profecto, ne 
prrecipuum argumentum rejicias, quo divina sapientia, providentia, potentia, atque 
adeo existentia, lumine naturse stabiliri potest. Quippe ut mundum universum, ut 
coelum et alias ejus et proecipuas partes prooteream, undenam, aut quomodo melius 
argumentare valeas, quam ex usu partium in plantis, in animalibus, in hominibus, in te 
ipso (aut corpore tuo) qui similitudinem Dei geris ? Videmus profecto magnos quosque 
viros ex speculations anatomica corporis humani non assurgere modo ad Dei notitiam, 
sed hymnum quoque ipsi canere, quod omnes partes ita conformaverit, collocaveritque 
ad usus, ut sit omnino propter solertiam atque providentiam incomparabilem com- 
mendandus.”—Objectiones Quintse in Meditationem IV. De Vero et Falsof. 

I do not know if it has been hitherto remarked, that Gassendi is one of the first 
modern writers, by whom the following maxim, so often repeated by later physiologists, 
was distinctly stated : “Licet ex conformations partium corporis humani, conjecturas 
desumere ad functiones mere naturales.” It was from a precipitate application of this 
maxim, that he was led to conclude, that a man w as originally destined to feed on 
vegetables alone ; a proposition which gave occasion to several memoirs by Dr. Wallis 
and Dr. Tyson, in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London. 

Note a a a, page 542. 

The theories of Hume, of Paley, and of Godwin, how differently soever they may 
have figured in the imaginations of their authoi* *s, are all equally liable to the fun¬ 
damental objections stated in the text. The same objections are applicable to the 
generous and captivating, but not always unexceptionable, morality inculcated in the 
writings of Dr. Hutcheson.—The system, indeed, of this last philosopher may be 

philosophy of Democritus and others, who rejected any consideration of the Deity and intel¬ 
lect from the formation of the world, and attributed the origin of the universe to infinite 
freaks and attempts of nature, which they styled in one word Fate or else Fortune, and 
assigned the causes of individual things to the necessary properties of matter, without any 
regard of final causes, their philosophy, I say, appears to us, as far as physical causes are 
concerned, to have been much sounder, and to have penetrated farther into nature than that 
of Plato and of Aristotle, on this account solely, because the former never wasted their labour 
on final causes, but the latter continually inculcated them. And Aristotle is rather to be 
censured on this head than Plato, as he omitted the Deity, the origin of final causes, and 
substituted Nature for the Deity, and adopted final causes rather as a votary of logic than 
of theology. Nor do we mention these things as though those final causes were not true and 
very deserving of investigation in metaphysical speculation, hut because, whilst they make 
incursions and invasions into the province of physical causes, they deplorably devastate and 
lay it waste.] 

* [As to your rejecting the employment of final causes in physics, you might perhaps with 
propriety have done so on another occasion; but when the question is concerning the Deity, 
it is to be feared that you would reject the main argument by which the divine wisdom, 
providence, power, and consequently existence, can be established through the light of nature. 
For, that I may omit the whole world, the heavens, and their principal parts, from whence or 
how* could you argue better than from the use of parts in plants, in animals, in men, in the 
whole body of yourself, who have the likeness of God ? We see unquestionably some great 
men, from the anatomical examination of the human body, rise not only to the knowledge of 
God, but also raise hymns to Him, because he formed and arranged all parts in such a manner 
for their destined purposes, that he is to be highly praised on account of his incomparable skill 
and foresight.] 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 599 

justly regarded as the parent stock on which the speculations of the others have been 
successfully grafted. 

Mr. Hume entered on his Inquiries concerning Morals, at a period when Dr. 
Hutcheson’s literary name was unrivalled in Scotland. The abstract principles on 
which his doctrines are founded differ widely from those of his predecessor, and are 
unfolded with far greater ingenuity, precision, and elegance. In various instances, 
however, lie treads very closely in Dr. Hutcheson’s footsteps ; and, in the final result 
of his reasonings, he coincides with him exactly. According to both writers, a regard 
to general expediency affords the only universal canon for the regulation of our 
conduct. 

It is a curious circumstance in the history of ethics, that the same practical rule of 
life, to which Dr. Hutcheson was so naturally and directly led by his cardinal virtue of 
disinterested benevolence, has been inferred by Dr. Paley fx*om a theory which resolves 
moral obligation entirely into prudential calculations of individual advantage. For 
the very circuitous, and (in my opinion) very illogical argument, whereby he has 
attempted to connect his conclusion with his premises, I must refer to his work— 
Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy, book ii. chap. 1, 2—6.* 

The Political Justice of Mr. Godwin is but a new name for the principle of general 
expediency or utility. “The term justice,” he observes, “may be assumed as a 
general appellation for all moral duty. That this appellation,” he continues, “ is suf¬ 
ficiently expressive of the subject, will appear, if we consider for a moment, mercy, 
gratitude, temperance, or any of those duties which, in looser speaking, are contradis¬ 
tinguished from justice. Why should I pardon this criminal, remunerate this favour, 
abstain from this indulgence ? If it partakes of the nature of morality, it must be 
either right or wrong, just or unjust. It must tend to the benefit of the individual, 
either without entrenching upon, or with actual advantage to, the mass of individuals. 
Either way, it benefits the whole, because individuals are parts of the whole. There¬ 
fore, to do it is just, and to forbear it is unjust. If justice have any meaning, it is just 
that I should contribute everything in my power to the benefit of the whole.”—Polit. 
Justice, vol. i. pp. 80, 81. 

It is manifest that, in the foregoing extract, the duty of justice is supposed to coin¬ 
cide exactly as a rule of conduct with the affection of benevolence ; whereas, according 
to the common use of words, justice means that particular branch of virtue which 
leads us to respect the right of others ; a branch of virtue remarkably distinguished 
from all others by this, that the observance of it may be extorted by force: the viola¬ 
tion of it exposing the offender to resentment, to indignation, and to punishment. In 
Mr. Godwin’s language, the word justice must either be understood to be synonymous 
with general benevolence, or—assuming the existence of such an affection—to express 
the moral fitness of yielding, upon all occasions, to its suggestions. “ It is just,” says 
Mr. Godwin, “ that I should contribute everything in my power to the benefit of the 
whole.—My benefactor ought to be esteemed, not because he bestowed a benefit upon 
me, but because he bestowed it upon a human being. His desert will be in exact pro¬ 
portion to the degree in which the human being was worthy of the distinction conferred. 
Thus, every view of the subject brings us back to the consideration of my neighbour’s 
moral worth, and his importance to the general weal, as the only standard to determine 
the treatment to which he is entitled. Gratitude, therefore, a principle which has so 
often been the theme of the moralist and the poet, is no part either of justice or vir¬ 
tue.” (Ibid. p. 84.) The words just and justice can, in these sentences, mean nothing 
distinct from morally fit or reasonable; so that the import of the doctrine amounts 
merely to the following proposition, That it is reasonable or right, that the private 
benevolent affections should, upon all occasions, yield to the more comprehensive ;—- 
which is precisely the system of Hutcheson, disguised under a different and much more 
exceptionable phraseology. 

This abuse of words is not without its effect in concealing from careless readers the 
fallaciousness of some of the author’s subsequent arguments ; for although the idea he 
pi'ofesses to convey by the term justice be essentially different from that commonly 
annexed to it, yet he scruples not to avail himself, for his own purpose, of the received 


* The theory of Dr. Paley has been very ably examined by Mr. Gisborne, in a treatise 
entitled, The Principles of Moral Philosophy investigated, and briefly applied to the Constitu¬ 
tion of Civil Society. (London, 1790.) The objections to it there stated appear to me quite 
unanswerable; and they possess the additional mei'it of being urged with all the deference so 
justly due to Dr. Paley’s character and talents. 





600 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


maxims which apply to it in its ordinary acceptation. In discussing, for example, the 
validity of promises, he reasons thus: “I have promised to do something just and 
right.—This certainly I ought to perform. Why ? Not because I promised, but 
because justice prescribes it. I have promised to bestow a sum of money upon some 
good and respectable purpose. In the interval between the promise and my fulfilling 
it, a greater and nobler purpose offers itself, which calls with an imperious voice for 
my co-operation. Which ought I to prefer ? That which best deserves my prefe¬ 
rence. A promise can make no alteration in the case. I ought to be guided by the 
intrinsic merit of the objects, and not by any external and foreign consideration. 
No engagements of mine can change their intrinsic claims.—If every shilling of our 
property, every hour of our time, and every faculty of our mind, have already received 
their destination from the principles of immutable justice, promises have no depart¬ 
ment left upon which for them to decide. Justice, it appears, therefore, ought to be 
done, whether we have promised it or not.”—Ibid. p. 151. 

It is quite evident that, in this passage, the paramount supremacy indisputably 
belonging to justice in its usual and legitimate sense, is ascribed to it when employed 
as synonymous with benevolence ; and of consequence, that the tendency of the new 
system, instead of extending the province of justice, properly so called, is to set its 
authority entirely aside, wherever it interferes with views of utility. In this respect, 
it exhibits a complete contrast to all the maxims hitherto recognised among moralists. 
The rules of justice are happily compared by Mr. Smith to the strict and indispensable 
rules of grammar ; those of benevolence to the more loose and general descriptions of 
what constitutes the sublime and beautiful in writing that we meet with in the works 
of critics. According to Mr. Godwin, the reverse of this comparison is agreeable to 
truth ; while, at the same time, by a dexterous change in the meaning of terms, he 
assumes the appearance of combating for the very cause which he labours to betray. 

Of the latitude with which the word justice had been previously used by many 
ethical writers, a copious and choice collection of instances may be found in the learned 
and philosophical notes subjoined by Dr. Parr to his Spital Sermon. (London, 1801.) 
“ By none of the ancient philosophers, however,” as he has well observed, “ is justice 
set in opposition to any other social duty ; nor did they employ the colossal weight of 
the term in crushing the other moral excellences, which were equally considered as 
pillars in the temple of virtue.”—pp. 28-31.* 

Note b b b, page 542. 

As the main purpose of this section is to combat the logical doctrine which would 
exclude the investigation of final causes from natural philosophy, I have not thought it 
necessary to take notice of the sceptical objections to the theological inferences com¬ 
monly deduced from it. The consideration of these properly belongs to some inquiries 
which I destine for the subject of a separate essay. On one of them alone I shall 
offer at present a few brief remarks, on account of the peculiar stress laid upon it in 
Mr. Hume’s Posthumous Dialogues. 

“ When two species of objects,” says Philo, u have always been observed to be con¬ 
joined together, I can infer, by custom, the existence of one wherever I see the exist¬ 
ence of the other : and this I call an argument from experience. But how this argu¬ 
ment can have place, where the objects, as in the present case, are single, individual, 
without parallel, or specific resemblance, may be difficult to explain. And will any 
man tell me, with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise from 
some thought and art, like the human, because we have experience of it ? To ascer¬ 
tain this reasoning, it were requisite that we had experience of the origin of worlds ; 
and it is not sufficient, surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art 
and contrivance. Can you pretend to show any similarity between the fabric of a 
house, and the generation of the universe ? Have you ever seen nature in any such 
situation as resembles the first arrangement of the elements ? Have worlds ever been 


* Having mentioned the name of this eminent person, I eagerly embrace the opportunity of 
acknowledging the instruction I have received, not only from his various publications, but from 
the private literary communications with which he has repeatedly favoured me. From one of 
these, (containing animadversions on some passages in my Essay on the Sublime,) I entertain 
hopes of being permitted to make a few extracts in a future edition of that performance. By 
his candid and liberal strictures I have felt myself highly honoured ; and should be proud to 
record, in his own words, the corrections he has suggested of certain critical and philological 
judgments which, it is highly probable, I may have too lightly hazarded. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


601 

formed under your eye ; and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress of 
the phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its final consummation 1 If 
you have, then cite your experience, and deliver your theory.” 

This celebrated argument appears to me to be little more than an amplification of 
that which Xenophon puts into the mouth of Aristodemus, in his conversation with 
Socrates concerning the existence of the Deity. “ I behold,” says he, “ none of those 
governors of the world whom you speak of; whereas here, I see artists actually em¬ 
ployed iu the execution of their respective works.” The reply of Socrates, too, is in 
substance the same with what has been since retorted on Philo by some of Mr. 
Hume’s opponents. “ Neither yet, Aristodemus, seest thou thy soul, which, however, 
most assuredly governs thy body : although it may well seem, by thy manner of 
talking, that it is cliauce and not reason which governs thee.” 

Whatever additional plausibility Philo may have lent to the argument of Aristodemus 
is derived from the authority of that much abused maxim of the inductive logic, that 
“ all our knowledge is entirely derived from experience.” It is curious, that Socrates 
should have touched with such precision on one of the most important exceptions with 
which this maxim must be received. Our knowledge of our own existence as sentient 
and intelligent beings, is, as I formerly endeavoured to show, not an inference from 
experience, but a fundamental law of human belief. All that experience can teach me 
of my internal frame, amounts to a knowledge of the various mental operations whereof 
I am conscious; but what light does experience throw on the oi’igin of my notions of 
personality and identity ? Is it from having observed a constant conjunction between 
sensations and sentient beings ; thoughts and thinking beings ; volitions and active 
beings ; that I infer the existence of that individual and permanent mind, to which all 
the phenomena of my consciousness belong ? Our conviction that other men are, like 
ourselves, possessed of thought and reason, together with all the judgments we pro¬ 
nounce on their intellectual and moral characters, cannot, as is still more evident, be 
resolved into an experimental perception of the conjunction of different objects or 
events. They are inferences of design from its sensible effects, exactly analogous to 
those which, in the instance of the universe, Philo would reject as illusions of the 
fancy.* 

But leaving for future consideration these abstract topics, let us for a moment 
attend to the scope and amount of Philo’s reasoning. To those who examine it 
with attention it must appear obvious, that, if it proves anything, it leads to this 
general conclusion, that it would be perfectly impossible for the Deity, if he did 
exist, to exhibit to man any satisfactory evidence of design by the order and perfection 
of his works. That everything we see is consistent with the supposition of its being 
produced by an intelligent author, Philo himself has explicitly acknowledged in these 
remarkable words : “ Supposing there were a God, who did not discover himself im¬ 
mediately to our senses; would it be possible for him to give stronger proofs of his 
existence, than what appear on the whole face of nature ? What, indeed could such a 
Divine Being do, but copy the present economy of things; render many of his artifices 
so plain, that no stupidity could mistake them ; afford glimpses of still greater artifices, 
which demonstrate his prodigious superiority above our narrow apprehensions ; and 
conceal altogether a great many from such imperfect creatures ? ” The sceptical 
reasonings of Philo, therefore, do not, like those of the ancient Epicureans, hinge, in 
the least, on alleged disorders and imperfections in the universe, but entirely on the 
impossibility, in a case to which experience furnishes nothing parallel or analogous, of 
rendering intelligence and design manifest to our faculties by their sensible effects. 
In thus shifting his ground from that occupied by his predecessors, Philo seems to me 

* This last consideration is ably stated by Dr. Reid. (See “ Intellectual Powers.” Essay VI. 
Chap. VI. and VII. 8vo. edit. 1843.) The result of his argument is, that “ according to Philo’s 
reasoning, we can have no evidence of mind or desigu in any of our fellow-men.”—At a consider¬ 
ably earlier period, Buffier had fallen into the same train of thinking. Among the judgments 
which he refers to common sense, he assigns the first place to the two following : 1. II y a d’autres 
etres, et d’autres homines que moi au monde. 2. II y a dans eux quelque chose qui s’appelle 
verite, sagesse, prudence,” &c. &c. (Cours de Sciences, p. 566. Paris, 1732.) I have already 
objected to the application of the phrase common sense, to such judgments as these ; but this 
defect in point of expression does not detract from the sagacity of the author in perceiving, that 
in the conclusions we form concerning the minds and characters of our fellow-creatures, (as 
well as in the inferences drawn concerning the invisible things of God from the things which 
are made), there is a perception of the understanding implied, for which neither reasoning nor 
experience is sufficient to account. 

R R 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


602 

to have abandoned the only post from which it was of much importance for his adver¬ 
saries to dislodge him. The logical subtilties, formerly quoted about experience and 
belief, (even supposing them to remain unanswered,) ai’e but little calculated to shake 
the authority of principles, on which we are every moment forced to judge and to act, 
by the exigencies of life. For this change in the tactics of modern sceptics, we are 
evidently, in a great measure, if not wholly, indebted to the lustre thrown on the order 
of nature, by the physical researches of the two last centuries. 

Another concession extorted from Philo by the discovei’ies of modern science is 
still more important. I need not point out its coincidence with some remarks in the 
first part of this Section, on the unconscious deference often paid to final causes by 
those inquirers who reject them in theory; a coincidence which had totally escaped 
my recollection when these remarks were written. I quote it here, chiefly as a pleas¬ 
ing and encouraging confirmation of the memorable prediction with which Newton 
concludes his Optical Queries ; that “ if Natural Philosophy, in all its parts, by pursu¬ 
ing the inductive method, shall at length be perfected, the bounds of Moral Philosophy 
will be enlarged also.” 

“ A purpose, an intention, a design,” says Philo, “ strike everywhere the most care¬ 
less, the most stupid thinker; and no man can be so hax’dened in absurd systems, as at 
all times to reject it. That nature does nothing in vain, is a maxim established in all 
the schools, merely from the contemplation of the works of nature, without any religious 
purpose ; and from a firm conviction of its truth, an anatomist, who had observed a 
new organ or canal, would never be satisfied till he had also discovered its use and 
intention. One great foundation of the Copernican system is the maxim, That natux-e 
acts by the simplest methods, and chooses the most proper means to any end ; and 
astronomers often, without thinking of it, lay this strong foundation of piety and 
religion. The same thing is observable in other parts of philosophy : and thus all the 
sciences lead us almost insensibly to acknowledge a first intelligent Author ; and their 
authority is often so much the greatei*, as they do not directly profess that intention.” 


TIIE END. 


m 


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BURDER.—Oriental Customs; or an illustration of the Sacred Scriptures, by an explanatory application 
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CLARKE, ADAM.— The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments. The text carefully printed 
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